


Un Momento Contigo

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [7]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: 2020 without a pandemic, Acceptance, Alcohol, Almost Kiss, Animal Attack, Anxiety, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Birthday, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Daddy Issues, Depression, Disguise, Dismemberment, Drugs, Drunken Flirting, Explosions, Explosives, F/M, False Identity, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fluff, Found Family, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Guns, Heist, Impersonation, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Isolation, Meeting the Parents, Memories, Moving On, Murder, Non-Graphic Smut, Nostalgia, Party, Partying, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Drugs, Rejection, Robbery, Sneaking Around, Tenderness, Theft, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, almost relationship, cayo perico heist, probably gonna be some smut, trevor is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: A Moment With YouTommie Vercetti remains in Los Santos despite initially planning to leave after the murder of two FIB agents. Miguel Madrazo, looking for help with his El Rubio problem, promises a solid payday and protection from anyone who would target her.
Relationships: Miguel 'Mini' Madrazo/Original Female Character(s), Patricia Madrazo/Trevor Philips, Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/773280
Comments: 16
Kudos: 11





	1. Los Negocios (Business)

A text from an unknown number in the middle of the night informed her that someone knew who she was, where her money came from, and that she was obligated to help them- for some unknown, unnamed reason.  
It also instructed her to meet them at the new nightclub underneath the Diamond Casino. The Music Locker. Specifically the VIP area.  
The bottom of the message was signed off: ‘Miguel Madrazo’.  
Madrazo- was that a name she knew? Sounded familiar.  
How did he get her number?  
  
Reading the vague message at four in the morning had kept her awake for hours.  
This is what she got for staying in San Andreas after everything that went down. Apparently killing a couple of FIB agents without getting caught got you put on some kind of criminal VIP list.  
  
Tommie Vercetti, now legally known as 'Rosa De Los Santos', anxiously bit her lips together as she pulled up to the casino in her car later that same evening.  
No longer driving her beloved Cheval Fugitive, now stuck in a Karin Intruder to keep off the feds’ radar. Everything in life was so different now just for the sake of anonymity- and apparently it wasn’t working well enough.  
  
Walking through the Diamond felt surreal.  
She hadn’t been anywhere so glamorous and packed full of people in quite some time. Not since the last time she came to work at the Vanilla Unicorn in 2018- a little over two years ago now.  
The bright lights and complete lack of windows added up to an almost blinding fluorescence that sharply contrasted how dark it was outside the building. She was practically wincing against the light as she came to the elevator.  
  
Three floors below ground level was The Music Locker.  
Posters for DJ Moodymann practically lined the concrete walls.  
This level was nice and dark compared to the casino above. Much louder. The bass rattled her bones as she walked through the upper level of the club overlooking the dance floor. Though people were dancing everywhere with drinks in hand. At the railings, near walls- anywhere with a little bit of elbow room.   
Tommie moved through them carefully and tried to sneak a peek at the noticeably roped off and guarded VIP seats downstairs. She could see people sitting there, but she couldn't tell who any of them were.   
She would have to get closer.   
  
Moving through the crowd downstairs was an effort thanks to how determined she was to scope out who she might be talking to.   
She didn't want to have to take her eyes off of the small group of apparent elites, but she had to look away every few seconds just to avoid bumping into strangers on the main floor.   
When she was clear of the dancers, she focused her gaze on the group and looked for anyone who stood out.  
So focused that she didn't notice she'd crossed a certain distance set by the security guard near the velvet rope.  
"Hey, hey- what are you doing?"   
A well dressed young man seated by a group of women cut in before Tommie could say anything. "Oh- it's okay, she's with me."  
The bouncer backed off, but Tommie could see him eyeing her and knowing it was because she didn't quite fit. She didn't exactly show up looking glamorous enough to party in the newest club in Los Santos.  
"Thanks for coming, welcome. Miguel." The stranger on the couch stood up to greet her, phone in one hand and extending the other to shake. “Y’know, you look different than I expected. Vercetti’s Italian, right? You’re _really_ tan. Do you hit the beach often?”  
"I’m half Cuban ." she blandly told him and shook his hand. Defaulting to her alias. “And it’s _De Los Santos_ .”  
"Oh, no no- no need for fake names here," Miguel said, moving back toward the seats and gesturing for her to follow. "We're in the same business! You want anything- tequila, champagne, gum?"  
"Uh- I'm good," she shook her head. She'd rather get to the reason she was there. And how he knew to contact her.   
"You sure? It's no problem. The minimum spend here is _insane_ ," he continued. "The cool kids really make you pay for the real estate."  
Tommie nodded. "I can see that."  
An older woman with short red-dyed hair at the same table poured herself a glass of champagne. And Tommie noticed her gaze.  
The pieces of the puzzle clicked in her mind.  
Miguel didn’t notice her zoning out. "This is my lovely mother-”  
“Patricia Madrazo?” Tommie asked, taking both of them by surprise.  
Patricia looked closely at Tommie’s face- obviously trying to place her. They hadn’t met before, but she seemed to want to be completely sure.  
“I--I was a friend of Trevor’s,”  
Miguel wasn’t in on the reference. “Who?”  
Patricia’s eyebrows rose with interest, and she held out a hand to Tommie and they shook. Opting to say nothing more about the matter in front of her son. Looking a little uneasy at the mention of Trevor Philips- and Tommie’s usage of _‘was’_ . "You're going to help my boy, right?"  
Tommie gave her a tense smile. “I guess I have to at least hear him out now.”  
Miguel seemed pleased with that answer and moved along with further introductions. “That’s Jackie-”  
The blonde woman beside Patricia reached a hand out to Tommie and they shook. “Hi sweetie, I’m Jackie. Real estate.”  
“This beautiful piece is Kaylee,” Miguel moved on to the younger blonde beside Jackie. “She’s got more fuckin’ followers than the Pope.”  
Kaylee looked up from her phone to eye Tommie. Seeming to scrutinize based on her look. “‘Sup.” She looked back down at her device.  
‘They were at ULSA together,” Jackie proudly announced. Tommie had gone to the same university but said nothing, just letting Jackie have the brag. “Cost us a fortune getting them in there. Oh my god Patricia, you remember? That whole shitshow with the dean?”  
Patricia, still out of sorts with the implication of Trevor’s death, only managed a bland “Yeah…”  
“Are you okay, honey?” Jackie asked her and reached out to massage her shoulders.  
“Oh, I’m good,” Patricia set down her champagne glass but accepted the comforting gesture nonetheless.  
Tommie wanted to say more to her, but Miguel turned her away to sit beside his mother again. Tommie sat at his side. “So I don’t know how well you know my father, but he’s old school. I’m the _now_ guy.”  
“I don’t know him _at all_ , actually,” Tommie admitted.  
“Well- you know how _your_ dad worked, right?”  
“Not really but I get what you’re saying.”  
“Good because that means we’re the fucking idea guys,” Miguel enthusiastically continued. At least he liked what he did. Tommie was nowhere near as hyped to be her father’s kid. “Diversify our brands, right? Merch, the full three-sixty, twenty-four seven.”  
She let slip a short laugh.   
She thought she might’ve seen him crack a smile at that. “I have got _big_ fucking plans-” Patricia set a hand on his shoulder and he turned to her. “Right, mom?”  
Patricia affectionately stroked her son’s cheek. “Right, sweetie.”  
Patricia reminded Tommie of her own mom.  
Except Lita didn’t encourage being like her father.  
“Madrazo 2.0 baby,” Miguel continued, standing up and motioning for her to follow again with a hand on her shoulder. Seeming to want to speak privately.  
Tommie stood and followed.  
“But um- I’ve also got a big fucking problem right now.” He led her to a tall tabletop nearby and showed her his phone’s screen.  
On the screen, a woman in lingerie.  
“Uh- not her,” Miguel scrolled away from the picture. Getting an eye-roll from Tommie. “Sorry.” The next picture was of a man. “This guy. Juan Strickler.”  
“And what does ‘Juan Strickler’ have to do with me, specifically?” Tommie asked. “I never fuckin’ heard of the guy.”  
“I’m gettin’ to it,” Miguel assured. “So- they call him ‘El Rubio’. The Blond Columbian. One of our main suppliers.”  
“I assume that means he was a few keys short on the last shipment.”  
“Worse- somehow the fucker’s gotten a hold of, like, decades’ worth of intel on my family. I mean- every business cuts corners, right-”  
“Mine didn’t.”  
“-but you take some kind of shit out of context and the optics can look bad.”  
“Right.”  
“Anyway, he’s threatening to leak it all to the DEA if we don’t renegotiate our prices.”  
“Am I supposed to help you negotiate, or…?”  
“Oh- fuck no. I’m not gonna give him what he wants, he’s trying to play me for a fucking fool-” Patricia came up behind him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “ _Mom! Just chill!_ ”  
“I don’t know what I'll do if anything happens to him,” Patricia said.  
Tommie smiled at that, and observed as Patricia, Jackie, and Kaylee joined them at the standing table while a server brought over and popped a bottle of champagne.  
"Six figure check, everyone," Miguel said. "Let's make it happen!"  
While Patricia poured more drinks for her friends, Miguel pulled Tommie aside again.   
" _Six figure check?_ " She had to confirm.  
"You heard right," he patted her shoulder. "There's no way I'm gonna let that piece of shit bring down my family or make me look weak in front of my father. You understand."  
"For six figures, you're goddamn right I do," Tommie replied.  
"That's what the fuck I wanna hear!" He beamed. "I need to get my hands on those files by any means necessary, so I'm just gonna lay it all out for you." They sat down side-by-side again. A little too close by accident, and Miguel respectfully scooted over a little. "Strickler's got this private island off the Carribean coast of Columbia. Grows a bunch of coke and weed down there. He's got himself this big compound. Lots of guards, high security, the whole works. I need you to rob it."  
" _High security?_ " Tommie winced.   
"That gonna be a problem?"  
"I've literally never left the country before or done anything like this and you want me to go to Columbia and steal from a man with 'lots of guards'? _I'd say it's a fucking problem."  
_ "We're talking a big payday here."  
"We're talking _me being a complete amateur._ You want a _team_ for this, you don't want just me," she insisted.   
"Oh you'll have a team," Miguel said. "I'll hook you up with a few names to get you on the right track in terms of setup- but the main job is all you. Going in alone is the best way to go in stealthy like a fuckin' ghost."  
"But why _me?_ How did you even get any information about me?" She needed to understand this. How would someone she never met know how to contact her?  
"I got sources all over the state," he said and poked at the blackened screen of his phone for emphasis. "I heard about the infamous Tommy Vercetti dying a few years ago and a brand new _Little_ _Vercetti_ taking his money and multiplying it like fucking gangbusters. You're fucking _famous_ in our line of work. You’re this badass who throws the family name around and scares the shit out of people even without your old man at the helm. You turned a dying strip club into a hotspot that can barely be touched by the IRS and I have _mad_ fucking respect for that. Quite the resume. With you and the other guys I got lined up, you're gonna be a fucking _A-Team_ ."  
“-THIS PLACE IS FUCKIN’ MENTAAAAL!”  
Both Tommie and Miguel turned toward the source of the hype- to find a (likely drunk) Englishman wandering into the VIP section.  
“One sec,” Miguel told her before turning to the man. “David!”  
The Englishman was preoccupied with talking to Kaylee and didn’t initially notice Miguel, but soon came over and poured himself a glass of champagne from the bottle on a nearby table before.   
“Dave, come here a second,” Miguel motioned for him to come closer.  
“Drazzer!” He happily greeted when he sat on Tommie's other side. “When are we gonna see you throw some shapes!? Best tunes in LS right now, mate.” Patricia brought him a couple of full shot glasses. “Ooh, proper mullered.”  
“Was that even English?” Tommie’s mumbled question was lost in the heavy bass in the air.  
“This is the girl I was telling you about,” Miguel told him. “We were talking about the island.”  
“Oh yeah?” Dave asked after downing both shots of what looked like tequila reposado. “I’ve been over there, like, four times now?” He fished a joint out of his back pocket. “Massive vibes, a proper mashup.”  
“Yeah, the thing about El Rubio is: he likes a certain lifestyle,” Miguel explained to Tommie.  
“Drug lords always do,” Tommie nodded.  
“Oh yeah, the blond man likes to go large,” Dave added, lighting up his joint and taking a good sized puff. Suddenly Tommie realized how long it’d been since she smoked. “No expense spared. The hottest girls. The biggest names. I’m his go-to. Dave the Rave, the dream-maker! He loves me,” he took another drag. “Fucking nutter. I mean- I’ve seen him three days in, gurning like a trout, bottle of bubbly in one hand, AK in the other, chasing some fucking supermodel down the beach on a _panther_ , mate!”  
Tommie blinked. “What-”  
“Crazy scenes. Right up my alley!” Dave exhaled a cloud of smoke, then offered the weed to the others. “Blowback?”  
“Nah,” Miguel and Tommie both declined.  
“Well-” Dave took another hit. “Anyway, that’s got me nice and fuzzy. Reckon I’m gonna head back out there and get involved!” He got up and shimmied as he moved back toward the dancefloor, passing up the ladies who happily saw him off. “Let’s have it, Mrs. M!” He laughed and passed Patricia his weed before leaving.  
“Okay,” Miguel continued, absently giving Tommie a pat on her arm to get her attention back. “Circle back to talk logistics- first and foremost, you’re obviously going to need a _submarine!_ ”  
Tommie’s jaw dropped when he mimed his mind being blown. “A fucking submarine.”  
“That’s right, bear with me, I know I think fucking fast,” he grinned. “We go deep on this one. Literally. The silent. Fucking. Menace.”  
“And where are we gonna get a submarine?” She hated that she was actually asking. This was ridiculous.  
“There’s this old Russian sub. Just been upgraded to the latest specs. 6G state-of-the-art shit, operated by this guy called Pavel who’s been doing a few drops for us recently,” he stood up. Tommie stood as well. “He knows all about the job, he’ll be running the tech for you on the sub, it’s already all set up for you. We’re gonna go full counterespionage on that blond motherfucker. You feel me?”  
“You’re either crazy or a complete fucking moron,” Tommie flatly told him, arms crossing over her middle. “So which is it?”  
“Gotta go with Option A,” Miguel nodded. “Only crazy shit gets you ahead in the game, you know that by now.”  
She sighed. “I guess I do.”  
“So are you in?”  
She stared at him for a moment. Pensive.  
And he looked back expectantly, lips in a hard line, pushing up his glasses.  
Tommie rolled her eyes. “Six figures, you said?”  
“That’s right,” he replied. “That’s a lot of zeroes, right?”  
“Tack one more zero on.”  
“You’re fucking with me.”  
“Ohhhh no,” Tommie grinned. “You’re fucking with _me_ . You called _me_ here. Because you decided I was right for this-- for some fuckin’ reason. You want my services? I name the price. _That’s_ how business works.”  
Miguel stared hard at her as if searching her gaze for a bluff. And found none. “Done.”  
“Good.”  
“But only because I respect you as a ‘colleague’ for whatever the fuck our type of business is called.”  
“It’s called having to carry on the family business,” Tommie quipped. “And I dunno about you, but I fucking hate it… I’ll do the damn job.”  
“Fuck yeah,” he clapped her on the shoulder. “You do this, you’re gonna be very, _very_ well looked after, babe.”  
“Not your babe,” she told him as she turned to leave.  
“Right,” he said, sounding like he knew he shouldn’t have said it. “I’ll put you in touch with Pavel!”


	2. Bajo el Mar (Under the Sea)

She hadn’t expected to hear from Miguel again after their initial meeting in The Music Locker; but he’d sent her several texts over the last few days- including this morning.  
And not all of the messages pertained to El Rubio. Some were casual 'good morning's or pictures of things he thought were interesting. Some were just questions about her. What she liked to drink, what movies she’d seen recently, what music she was into, what she did for fun.  
He messaged her like he wanted to be friends- or like they were _already_ friends.  
It was actually pretty nice.  
He seemed fun. Unwarranted ‘babe’s aside.  
_  
"This will be fun.”_  
That was the last thing ‘Pavel’ had said in their initial phone call. Thick Russian accent and all.  
He told her that he would be surfacing off the coast of Cape Catfish- near the El Gordo lighthouse- which was quite a long fucking drive from where she was currently living in Paleto Bay.  
It would’ve been quicker if she just stayed in Los Santos. But she wanted to stay somewhere far away from the life she used to live- where the culture was as toxic as the emissions.  
Now out where the air was cleaner, the sea was colder, and the people were less likely to know her face.  
She had planned to live a normal life since leaving Los Santos but plans had a way of changing- especially when it was for a _seven_ figure paycheck as a reward for slipping blissfully back into moral ambiguity.  
Why did she even try to be better anymore if being a bastard paid more?  
  
When she parked her Intruder near the abandoned house in Cape Catfish, she got out and took in a deep breath of ocean air.  
With the lighthouse being automated, there was no need for anyone to live out here anymore. The state tended to the structure now.  
After she locked her car doors, she walked closer to the edge of the hill overlooking the water and spotted something dark surfacing on the water.  
“Jesus,” Tommie muttered under her breath, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand and squinting to try to see the object better. She couldn’t make out its shape, just able to see that it was a different color from the surrounding water. Was it small or far away? She couldn’t tell-- she forgot her stupid glasses at home. “Is that a whale, or…?”  
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took her eyes off of the black object.  
“Yeah?”  
_“Good morning, Kapitan,”_ Pavel greeted. _“Have you reached the lighthouse yet?”_ _  
_ “Yeah, I’m here,” she replied and headed toward the cement steps that led down the hill to a dock- stopping at the top step. “Is that thing out there the sub or am I hallucinating?”  
_“You are not hallucinating,”_ he laughed, but not mockingly. _“This is close as I can get the boat to the shore- the water is too shallow. There should be a boat docked nearby for you to get out here.”_ _  
_ Sure enough, there was a motorboat moored to the dock. “What if it floats away while I’m in the sub?”  
_“We will burn that bridge when we get to it, Kapitan,”_ Pavel replied. _“We have plans to go over when you arrive! I will be doing maintenance in meantime- just shout when you board.”_ _  
_ Pavel hung up after that, and Tommie started down the winding staircase and onto the flimsy wooden dock. Muttering under her breath, “ _'This’ll be fun.'_ "  
  
There was an anchor on board- which hopefully would reach the ground below.   
And thankfully she knew how to drive a boat. She’d first learned from watching friends drive their parents’ boats back in her heavy partying days. They’d ride about a mile out from shore, get shitfaced, and float out there until somebody complained about sunburn before going home.  
The waves made it hard to get very far in the first few minutes- Tommie drove slowly through six foot waves so the boat wouldn’t capsize- she certainly didn’t have any lifejackets on board and there were _definitely_ sharks out here.  
But she eventually reached the submarine and was shocked by the size of it.  
She’d expected a tiny little thing- maybe the size of a bus at most. But _this_ was a full-sized military craft. How big was this crew? Were they her support team?  
The front of the conning tower donned the Russian flag- and Tommie had to hope that nobody would notice a large Russian sub floating off the coast of an American state.  
Last thing she wanted was to attract _that_ attention. They'd get blown up.  
After dropping the anchor from the motorboat, Tommie climbed carefully onto what she guessed was the forward part of the submarine. Two hatches in sight- she decided to enter the one shaped like a door and close it _very_ tightly once she was inside.  
She did _not_ want the sub to go under the surface. Not with how much of a pain in the ass it was to get out here- it was gonna be hard to get back to land too.  
A ladder brought her down to the main room of the sub (she was sure it was called a ‘bridge’?) where she could hear, who she assumed was Pavel, singing some unknown song in Russian. "Hey- Pavel!?" She called. "I'm here!"  
Screens, buttons, a periscope, and a steering wheel made up the area, and she was admittedly a little intimidated by the setup. She leaned toward a black and green screen that showed a radius around the sub-- sonar?  
Pavel stopped singing to call out “Don’t touch anything!”  
Tommie jumped at the sudden scolding and backed away from the sonar station, instead moving through an open doorway to find Pavel at work hitting a handwheel attached to a different door with a wrench- likely trying to unjam it.  
“Ah, Kapitan!” He greeted, with what sounded like genuine friendliness. “Welcome aboard!” He saluted her. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Pavel. Helmsman first class, chief engineer, gunner, radar technician, and cook.”  
“You do everything?” She followed him into the space he was working in. She wasn’t sure what to expect of him- but it definitely wasn’t the tank top with a bear’s head or all the military tattoos on his arms. Where was the rest of the crew? Miguel said there’d be a team. “And you could just- call me Tommie if you want. Or Rosa. Whatever’s easier to remember.”  
“Not used to authoritative titles, yes?” He asked and hit the jammed handwheel again. It barely budged. “I am still very used to military life. I might stick to ‘Kapitan’ for ease of memory. But yes, I do everything-” he gestured to the open space. “She is beautiful, yes? Converted to be fully operational by skeleton crew of one. _Me_.”  
“Wow-- so you were actually in the Soviet Navy?” She asked, nodding to the garrison cap on his head with a red star.  
“Yes, and I was damned good sailor, if I may say so,” he hit the handwheel again with the wrench and it came loose enough to turn. He celebrated that with a laugh and a flip of the huge wrench in his hand. “Come, come,” he picked up a nearby toolbox and carried it back toward the bridge- Tommie close in tow. He set the toolbox on the floor beside the open doorway. “Your friend Mini Madrazo gets in touch with me just in time. I was about to get involved with some serious geopolitical bullshit; but who wants to get stuck on the bottom of the ocean with three IAA agents and angry blogger?”  
“Is that something that actually happened?” She asked.  
“Sounds absurd, yes?”  
“ _Very._ ”  
“Before that, was on Brazil West Africa route- now that was easy money,” he pointed out a set of buttons on a panel near the sonar station. “Don’t touch this.”  
“Okay.”  
“Before that,” he moved toward another panel. “I was fake sailing accident for Liberty City governor. Not so easy.” He pointed out another set of buttons. “Don’t touch this either.”  
“Okay?”  
“Before that, North Pole-” he pointed out a specific button. “Touch this and we all die.”  
Tommie blinked. “How about I just don’t touch _any_ of it?”  
Pavel nodded and resumed his story. "Before North Pole? I forget. The nineties in Russia were a hell of a drug, huh?”  
“I wouldn’t really know, I was _born_ in the nineties,” she shrugged.  
"You are younger than expected," he nodded and pointed out the helm. “ _This_ you can touch.”  
“Still not gonna, though.”  
He chuckled and headed to the podium at the center of the bridge. “Fair choice. Now! The Carribean, huh? Mini Madrazo explained me the details.” He touched the top of the podium and it illuminated with a startup screen before showing a picture of Juan 'El Rubio' Strickler in addition to a map of his private island. “This is quite the plan, huh?”  
“ _Is_ there a plan?” Tommie asked.  
“Mini Madrazo has given general idea of what we need done- I have drawn up specifics. It will take time and effort but it will get done,” Pavel nodded. “These will not be the first sensitive documents I have liberated, but Mini Madrazo pays better than the Canadian government. I think, yeah.”  
“Do you call him ‘Mini’ Madrazo for a reason?” She asked, steering clear of whatever Canada was up to.  
“Clearly he is compensating.” Pavel snickered. “Wants to be a big man like Papa Madrazo. Thinks he must prove himself worthy.”  
  
He feels like he has to live up to the family name.  
She could relate to that.  
There was a silent rule to life just for being born in families like the Vercettis or the Madrazos; and the rule was that you would be judged. For everything. No matter if it was by family or strangers, you had a reputation from birth and had to live up to it whether you wanted to or not. Trapped in the perceptions of others.   
What an oppressive life.  
  
“This man you are robbing,” Pavel tapped the photo on the screen. “Juan Strickler, ‘El Rubio’. Cartel boss, cocaine manufacturer, all-around bad guy. His little island is more fortified than many countries. Fortified compound, barracks, airfield, sea defenses, air defenses. The documents will be behind it all, hidden away. You will have to plan. You will have to research.”  
Tommie shook her head, expression contorted into a look of perplexion. “I dunno how to do any of that.”  
“There are many ways to thread a needle in a haystack. This why you need _me_.” He tapped her arm with the back of his hand. “You know what the element of surprise looks like? You are standing in it. Any questions?”  
She nodded. “Millions.”  
Pavel wandered toward the periscope and looked through it. “First order of business, you must get onto the island and take a look around. There is executive private party and you are the entertainment.”  
“... What?”  
“Or-- _with_ the entertainment,” he clarified. “You are the DJ’s tour manager.” He stepped down from the periscope’s platform and back to the planning screen. “I have it here somewhere-” he tapped the screen and it went to a zoomed in shot of some structure on the island, as well as three pictures of different men. “Yes- Keinemusik, Adam Port, Rampa, and &ME, and you. You are number four. You will meet at executive airport and off you fly.”  
“What are you gonna be doing while I’m there?”  
“I will be lurking in the deep like post-Soviet kraken, telling you what to do on radio. We begin tomorrow, when flight is scheduled.”  
He picked up his toolbox and oversized wrench again and headed aft to perform more maintenance.  
“Hang on a sec-”  
Pavel stopped in his tracks.  
“I’m completely inexperienced, I have no clue what I’m doing outside of whatever _you_ have planned,” Tommie admitted. “I’ve never done anything on this scale and frankly- it’s a little overwhelming. I asked _him_ but he just kinda skipped over answering me-- Do _you_ know why Madrazo picked me for this job?”  
Pavel looked her over and shrugged. “You are-- fellow child of ‘businessman’, huh?”  
“You could say that,” she nodded.  
“I think if you live up to reputation, he thinks _he_ can live up to reputation.” he suggested, gesturing toward her with the wrench in his hand, then continuing on his merry way out of the bridge to resume working.  
“... Yikes.”  
  
She was home by the afternoon and ran errands and did chores for the remainder of the day.  
Regular domestic life felt weird now- knowing that she was going to start planning counterespionage tomorrow.  
Jesus. The fucking contrast.  
After finishing dinner and doing the dishes, Tommie settled onto her couch and turned on the TV in hopes of finding something worth watching until she inevitably went to bed.  
Her phone pinged from where it was lying beside her on the couch cushion- and she picked it up to read the incoming message.  
_“Sup”_ _  
_ From Miguel.  
_“Hanging out at home. You?”_ It felt easy to talk to him. Like messaging a friend she’d known for some time. She liked that he was so casual.  
_“Just left the club._ _You wanna see a movie?”_ _  
_ A hangout?  
_“I’m all the way in Paleto”_  
_“You’re driving out here tomorrow anyway. Might as well come out right?”_ _  
_ That much was true. Though this was starting to sound more like an invitation for a hookup than a hangout.  
She often forgot she was allowed that now. But she wouldn't. Not with Miguel Madrazo.  
But he was at least right about having to go out there tomorrow. She could book a hotel room. No big deal.  
_“Sure, might as well.”_ _  
__“I’ll meet you at the casino.”_ _  
_ Was there a movie theater in the casino?  
  
It was a long drive to Los Santos- but she arrived at the Diamond before eleven and parked in the lot.   
She left an overnight bag in her trunk for later- as well as a change of clothes for tomorrow. This likely would only be a two or three hour hangout, no need to bring the backpack with her.   
Just outside the front of the casino, Miguel Madrazo was leaned up against the wall with his phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other.   
As well dressed as before.   
She was staring to think she needed to clean up better to be around him. She kept thinking about how Kaylee sized her up and, secretly, it made her self-conscious.  
"Sorry it took so long," she told him when she approached. "Far drive."  
"No worries, glad you could make it," he greeted and ushered her inside. "Did you see the sub yet, how'd it go?"  
She followed him to the elevator. "It's a lot more than I expected. Pavel’s pretty cool."  
"Fun guy, right? You should hear some of his stories." They entered the elevator and he hit the button for the penthouse level.  
Tommie noticed that. "So- does the casino have a theater floor?"  
"Hm? Nah, I got a private one in my penthouse. Well-- my family's penthouse."  
“Your family must really be into partying to spend the money.”  
“I think my dad considers it an ‘investment’. Be a good customer, get taken care of by the casino.” The elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor and they exited. “See back in like- last summer, when the place opened it was owned by a Triad gang, so my dad dropped a good amount of cash on the penthouse as a friendly gesture.”  
“Did that work out?” Tommie looked around the open foyer- doors on all sides. All open. One side, she guessed, led to the actual bedroom(s).  
On the other side, a lounge that extended further than she could see.  
“Sure did.” Miguel led her through that side and they continued on until they entered a dark room with lots of comfortable seating and a projector playing a rerun of Underbelly of Paradise- starring the late Dave Norton. “Got to keep this place for myself as a place to party.”  
Kaylee was seated inside the theater, staring down at her phone instead of the show. Comfortably leaned against a throw pillow with her legs outstretched across the cushion. Raising her phone above her head for an ideal selfie angle that also captured the tray of drinks on the end table behind her. “Hey, you finally made it,” she told Tommie after snapping an acceptable selfie. “Good timing. The drinks just got here. You want any?”  
Well- at least Kaylee’s presence reaffirmed to Tommie that this was just a casual hangout.  
Tommie looked around, turning a full three-sixty to get a good look at her surroundings. “Oh- I’m good, I gotta stay sharp. Thanks, though.”  
Miguel moved for the alcohol and picked an empty glass to pour some champagne into for himself. “The concierge really pushes this shit so we couldn’t pass it up. Go ahead- pick a spot, make yourself comfortable.”  
Tommie opted to sit on the other loveseat since Kaylee seemed comfortable. Miguel would likely get her to move if he wanted.  
But he moved right past that spot to sit beside Tommie on the other couch. “Alright, let’s get this shit started. Kaylee, hit it.”  
“Mmhm,” Kaylee took a second to finish a message on her phone, then freed a hand to pick up the remote and change the projector screen to a movie they’d selected, before turning her focus back to her phone when a chime indicated a new message.  
Tommie recognized the opening credits sequence right away, and gritted her teeth in a well hidden combination of anxiety and anger.  
So well hidden, that Miguel hadn’t noticed. “Meltdown. You ever see this one? It’s pretty old but it’s not bad.”  
“I’ve seen it,” she replied. And then there was the name. Michael De Santa. “I think I’ll take that drink after all.”  
“Gotcha,” Kaylee said and finished another message before pouring a glass of bubbly and reaching to pass it over.  
Tommie took a long drink out of the glass as soon as it was in her hand. “Thanks.”  
“So much for staying sharp,” Miguel blinked.  
“Fuck it,” Tommie replied and finished the glass. “Not like I’m the one flying the plane tomorrow.”  
  
Kaylee went home as soon as the movie ended- she said she had plans the next morning to publicize a brand new brunch spot on social media.  
Tommie and Miguel still felt awake enough to sit through another movie, and she had a couple more drinks over the following hours. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to feel a nice, pleasant buzz.  
“It’s getting late,” Miguel noted after a glance at the time. “You’re not driving back to Paleto tonight, are you?”  
“I was thinking I’d get a hotel room,” she replied. “I mean- we’re _at_ a hotel, so… It'll be a shorter transit to LSIA.”  
“Just stay here,” he shrugged. “I got a spare room. Housekeeping just went through it today.”  
“It’s not _your_ room, is it?” She asked with a smirk. She wouldn't be so carelessly playful if she were sober. “‘Cause I’m not fallin’ for it.”  
Miguel snickered. “Nah, the _good_ room’s mine. I’m not just gonna give that up.”  
  
He’d retired to his room for the night after showing her to the spare room.  
But when she’d entered, she saw that both beds inside were occupied-- by Patricia and Jackie. Both in deep sleep after what could only be assumed a girls night in the casino.  
They probably came in during the movie.  
Tommie quietly slipped out of the room so as not to disturb them.  
A yawn forced its way from her lips as she headed back toward the theater room, where it was pleasantly dark.


	3. Pantera (Panther)

“Good morning, Miguelito. How did you sleep?”  
Miguel froze for a second on his way out of the master bedroom- he hadn’t expected to see his mother so early this morning. “Just fine, Mom. When did you get here?”  
Patricia sipped slowly at a cup of heavily creamed coffee where she was seated in front of the large TV. “Jackie and I were having a good time in the casino last night. We came up here to sleep around one, I think?”  
"Did she go home already?" He helped himself to some of the remaining coffee on the tray at the bar counter.  
If his mom and Jackie slept here- where did Tommie end up?  
“She just left not long ago. You should’ve told me your friend was here,” Patricia said. “We would’ve gotten another room to stay in. She didn’t have to sleep on the sofa. I gave her a blanket a little while ago. She looked cold.”  
He set down his cup without even taking a sip. “Where was she sleeping?”  
  
Tommie’s phone vibrating under her body made her twitch awake.  
Her shoulder hurt from how she slept. Straight on her side, curled up in a ball to fit on the loveseat.  
Now, inexplicably, with a soft fleece throw draped over her.  
Where’d that come from?  
She slowly, achingly sat upright and found her phone to turn off the alarm.  
_Which she’d slept through for ten minutes._  
“Oh- goddamnit,” she hurried to stand up, tossing the blanket aside and hurriedly putting her shoes on. She straightened out her shirt where it had twisted around her middle, and made sure she had everything she came with before leaving the theater.  
She winced against the daylight flooding the penthouse through the huge windows and strode toward the elevator where she entered-  
And found Miguel on his way in the opposite direction.  
“Oh- shit- you’re in a hurry,” he said, changing direction to walk with her.  
“I overslept,” she quickly answered and hit the call button beside the elevator doors. “I have to get all the fucking way across town in an hour.”  
“They’re not gonna leave without you,” Miguel assured, fighting off a smirk when he saw how frazzled she was. “Where’d you end up falling asleep? You could’ve said something, I would’ve set you up somewhere better.”  
“Oh-” she blinked. “I’m good, I didn’t wanna ask.” She hated asking people for things. Any little thing. She preferred to do everything for herself, so she owed no one.  
She must’ve inherited that from her father. Ugh.  
The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside. “Thanks for inviting me over last night,” she offered a tired smile and fished a hair tie out of her back pocket to tie her hair into a tight bun. “And for letting me stay over.” She hit the button for the ground floor of the casino and the doors started to close.  
Miguel nudged one of the doors and the safety mechanism made them re-open. “No worries. Let’s do it again when you get back. We’ll talk business.”  
“Solid,” she nodded.  
“Take it easy, and uh-” He winked and clicked his tongue, and she could see him trying not to smile too wide. “Break a leg.”  
“Thanks.”  
The doors closed fully, and the elevator descended.  
And she realized she was smiling like an idiot- but only for a second before she forced it away and rubbed her eyes. “Ugh- what is _with_ me?”  
  
Pavel had called as she was driving out to the hangar at LSIA to reassure her that he would be watching her closely the entire time she was on the island.  
There was an earpiece awaiting her on the jet- disguised as a bluetooth device- that he would use to communicate with her from the Kosatka. He would have her location tracked on GPS as well. Which was reassuring-- sorta.  
  
She parked inside the hangar, well out of the way of the jet, and got out to wait for whoever would accompany her.  
Tommie doubted she would be subject to a rescue mission if El Rubio or his guards caught on to her.  
Worse yet- just for _this_ part of the job, she would be unarmed. Completely in her own hands.  
It was enough to make anyone jittery.  
After a few minutes, she turned to the open side of the plane and decided to board- just to see the inside.  
“Hey!”  
She turned to see two young women approaching. Shorts, sunglasses, suitcases- like this was a week long trip.  
“Is this the right place for the party?” The blonde asked.  
The brunette was just as excited as her friend. “I can _not_ believe they’re gonna pay us, ‘cause I would go for free!”  
Tommie opened her mouth to ask them about the pay, but the blonde had already moved on from the thought. “Oh- can we post!? Is there a hashtag?”  
“Hashtag: ‘fuck yeah!’”  
The two hollered in anticipation, and Tommie wondered if she was this obnoxious when she was in her naive party girl phase. Nineteen was a hell of a year.  
“Ladies! So glad you could make it!” Dave rounded the corner of the hangar and entered, a camera hanging from a lanyard around his neck. He opened his arms out to the two girls and they happily accepted a hug. “Come on, let’s have some!”  
“And you love,” he acknowledged Tommie, turning her away from the girls with a hand on her back to speak more privately. “Miguelito’s new best chum, yeah? What we’ve gotten ourselves into, eh? Word of advice for over there: do what I say, not what I do. Let’s try to come out of this with all of our ears and a bit of suntan, ‘kay?”  
“That’s the goal,” she told him.  
Their pilot left a small office structure inside the hangar and approached. “Hey folks, just to let you know- we have our window, so whenever you’re ready.”  
“Be there in a jiffy, Captain. Got to handle the important stuff,” Dave removed the camera from around his neck and handed it to Tommie. “Here, hold that for me and do the honors.”  
She took a couple of pictures of the other three passengers.  
“Now, I’ve got three rules on Air English Dave,” he added, while Tommie snapped more photos of the three of them in different social media friendly poses. “Anything goes after ten thousand feet, you can kip when you’ve landed, and you ain’t flown in one of _these_ unless it’s all over the socials.”  
  
The plane touched down several hours later on the airstrip of Cayo Perico.  
The island was bigger than Tommie expected, and she was the only person on board who wasn’t excited to land.  
Now the work began.  
“Ooooh, it’s so beautiful!” The blonde party guest (Tommie had not bothered to learn the girls’ names) beamed as she left the plane.  
Her friend came behind her. “Oof, I’m gonna need a shower.  
“Me too, it’s hot,” the blonde agreed.  
Dave stepped out after them, and Tommie followed him after making sure she left her switchblade on the jet. If security caught her with it, she’d probably get sent home with it lodged in her chest.  
“Ugh, fuck me- balmy innit?” Dave noted.  
“It’s worse than fucking _Florida_ out here,” Tommie agreed, fanning herself. Thank god she’d been given a clean shirt on the flight over. A white Keinemusik T-shirt- which would thankfully be breathable in the sunshine.  
“Here, a word in your shell like,” Dave pulled her aside again. “Now, you’re really gonna start sweating when you see our host.”  
A cavalcade of militarized vehicles approached the airstrip on the one road out.  
“But let’s hope he has enough up his nose he won’t smell the deception, eh?”  
Tommie nodded. “Great.”  
Dave chorted. “Just winding you up, he’ll most certainly be spangled. Oh- here he is.”  
The three vehicles stopped nearby and out came armed guards- as well as the man himself. Juan Strickler.  
“Davey!” The blond Columbian threw his arms up as he approached. “Welcome to Paradise.”  
Dave separated from the group to approach Strickler. “Monsieur Rubio,” he gave a half-bow.  
Strickler waved off the honorifics and pulled Dave into a friendly hug. “Call me Blondie, eh?” He turned to the DJs who accompanied them and greeted them the same.  
Tommie observed as he did so. He didn’t have the demeanor of a ruthless drug lord-- but then again, first impressions weren’t always accurate. The armed guards watching Tommie and the other new arrivals said enough about him.  
Another Winky arrived as he spoke to the entertainment, and they collected the passengers’ luggage.  
“And hey-” Strickler happily added. “You’re not on the mainland anymore. It’s my rules… Anything goes!”  
The girls and the DJs were escorted to the cars, very obviously excited to start partying.  
“Davey, you guys are with me,” Strickler added.  
“Yeah, lovely,” Dave nodded and took a step toward the remaining car.  
Until Strickler finally noticed Tommie. “Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.”  
Dave quickly answered with the decided cover story. “Oh uh- this is uh- the tour manager, innit.”  
“Good to meet you,” she told him and they shook hands.  
“Holds the whole operation together,” Dave added.  
“Okay, cool,” Strickler nodded, then turned their attention to the only remaining Winky. “That’s our ride. Tour manager, you can drive us, right?”  
“Of course,” Tommie replied and headed for the driver’s seat. Dave got in back- and Strickler was front passenger.  
“This road, straight up ahead,” Strickler said.  
“Got it,” Tommie put the car in drive and moved on.  
Passing under a large sign that read ‘BIENVENIDOS A CAYO PERICO’.  
  
Strickler separated from them after they arrived on the beach.  
Tommie took in her surroundings. A perfect beach view, neatly enclosed by hills-- and gates and guards.  
Canopies, tents on the waterfront, open bars. Strickler clearly knew how to throw a party.  
“All these people are paid to be here?” She asked, sticking close to Dave for the time being.  
“The blond man’s _really_ selective,” Dave replied. “Quality _and_ quantity, right?” He started toward the middle of the idling crowd as the emcee came to the center of the DJ booth. The rest of the guests must’ve noticed as well- because attention turned in that direction. “Ooh, you feel that? It’s about to get sexy!”  
She would have to sneak off from this party soon. Now the real work began.  
“Look, when it kicks off, sneak out the back and have yourself a goosey gander, yeah?”  
“Yeah.” She looked toward where they drove in and spotted more armed guards. She looked to the water- another one standing watch on the beach. How was she supposed to get out?  
“Right, come with me,” Dave led the way toward the center of the crowd- an unassuming spot for someone planning to leave. “Look, Dave’s being a good boy tonight, clean as a whistle,” he told her. “No tranqs. I’ll jump on the old jeteroo with you whenever you wanna go.”  
“Staying sober through a party,” she smirked. “How noble of you.”  
“Can’t smash ‘em all, can we?” Dave affirmed. “Gotta know when to say ixnay.” He spotted the emcee picking up a microphone and clipboard. “Hold on, here we go.”  
“Excuse me, I just want to say a few words,” the emcee started, reading straight from the clipboard. Tommie finally recognized him. Scott Storch- from a record company rivaling her mom's. “We’re all here because of one man. The kindest, most generous man I know. Juan Strickler, El Rubio. My brother. A lot gets written about you on the internet. They talk about cocaine, turf-wars, missing journalists-” oh _fuck_ . “-but you know what they never say? How big your heart is. You’re beautiful, you’re a humanitarian-”  
“You wrote a speech to blow yourself in front of everyone,” Tommie muttered. She noticed Strickler behind the DJ booth acting like this was all impromptu.  
“- and you throw the best parties in the world,” Storch continued. “So from all of us, thank you.”  
Strickler took the mic from him, pretending he didn’t write those words himself. “Thank you, my brother,” he was good at feigning humble acceptance. The facade was easy to see through in context. “Alright, who’s ready to fucking party!?” He was met with audible hype from the partygoers. “I give you… Keinemusik!”  
And just like that, Dave left Tommie’s side to move forward toward the speakers as the setlist began. “Let’s go fucking laaarge!”  
Her phone chimed in her back pocket seconds later, and she took it out to read the incoming message from Pavel. _“Captain, I be in touch very soon on radio. You blend in and enjoy party in mean time.”_ _  
_ _  
_ Well, at least she could try to relax for a few minutes, opting to sway with the music for a while.  
She hadn’t done this in years. No wonder she didn’t fit in at The Music Locker. She hadn’t relaxed in god knows how long.  
Job and associated dangers aside… she thought Miguel would like this party. Seemed like his kind of scene.  
  
She thought about him more than once on the flight. And how he looked at her before she left the penthouse. So corny. But sincere.  
  
She realized that her lips were curled upward at the thought, and quickly wiped the look off her face.  
It was embarrassing to think about an employer like a friend- worse yet to be excited to hang out again after this-  
_“Psst. Kapitan, it is me Pavel,”_ His voice coming through her earpiece broke her train of thought. But she didn’t stop swaying with the music- having to keep inconspicuous. _“How is the party? Try to look like real tour manager, yes? Now that the DJs are playing and the job is done, you get real bloody messy, huh?”_ He added with a laugh.  
“I fuckin’ hope not,” she replied.  
_“Stick around as long as you like. Party will go on forever. And when you are ready, perhaps you can sneak past guards near where you come in.”_ _  
_ “Okay,” she stole a glance at the gate- two guards posted by where she’d need to go. “And if they catch me?”  
_“Simple: do not get caught.”_ _  
_ “ _Psh…_ ‘Simple’, of course,” she made her way through the crowd, eyes on the guards. They were talking to each other, and she wouldn’t be able to go past them without walking into their peripherie.  
However...  
A drunk partygoer left the throng to wander out toward the parked Winky- and she puked into the open top.  
Both guards, clearly disgusted and annoyed, headed for the drunk bikini-clad girl to presumably get her away from the mess she’d made.  
Tommie took this chance to bolt. Running as fast as possible until she was well past where anyone could see, nearing the wrought iron gate.  
A quick glance back, to make sure she wasn’t being followed, and she opened up the gate just enough to slip through and close it.  
“I’m out,” she told Pavel in a hushed tone while she crept up the hill- slowly to make sure she was alone.  
“Good times,” Pavel beamed. “But for you- party is over. If a guard sees you from now on, you will get more than finger wagging, you understand? And be aware, they will have cameras too.”  
She found a parked Winky at the top of the hill- completely left alone. She didn’t trust driving anything around here. Limiting herself to the road was likely to get her seen. “I’ll keep on the lookout.”  
“Good, now based on satellite images, the compound is on south side of the island.”  
“Soo-” she looked up at the sky and noted the location of the sun. Then headed south. “This direction.”  
“This is likely the place he is keeping Mini Madrazo’s files,” Pavel didn’t tell her she was going the wrong way based on her GPS location, so she continued on- keeping off but following the road. “We do our reconnaissance, we come back to sub to make a plan of attack. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First things first- it looks like there is a security checkpoint ahead.”  
Tommie kept hidden between the trees and brush. And she spotted a guard tower first- then a gated entrance.  
“You must get through without being seen,” Pavel noted. “Or the guards will drag you back to the party by your delicate parts.”  
“Perfect,” Tommie grumbled. So far she could see… Just one guard at the tower. Likely another inside the shack by the road.  
The chain link fence, however, was unguarded. She couldn’t even see a camera.  
‘I’m going for it,” she told Pavel. Waiting for the guard in the tower to turn away…  
Now.  
Tommie sprinted for the gate, shoving it open with ease and letting it swing shut behind her. She quickly dropped to take cover behind the guard shack- unseen. Keeping low as she heard a car approaching--- and then gaining distance. They drove right past her.  
A quick peek around the corner, nothing and no one was facing her- so she took off again.  
  
She didn’t stop running until another gate was in sight. Keeping low in the brush when she finally came to a halt. Trying to catch her breath- and hold it at the same time to make no noise.  
_“You should be able to see the compound now,”_ Pavel said after a long radio silence. _“Take a good look- that is where the files must be. But based on my information, there is also a security checkpoint ahead of you. Now is not the time for full frontal, Kapitan. We must be clever. So, we use CCTV against them. Wait there.”_ _  
_ “No problem,” she huffed, finally feeling like she could breathe again- though her pulse wouldn’t slow down. Her heart had been racing since leaving the party.  
This was horrifying. All of it.  
_“Okay,”_ Pavel came back on the radio a minute or so later. _“Next step. If I am reading satellite images correctly, there is communications tower near your current position. It would be the highest point of the island.”_  
Tommie made sure she was well hidden, and stood to look in all directions- spotting a tall tower at the top of a nearby hill. “Found it.”  
_“If there is anywhere we can hack CCTV and use it to see inside compound, it is there. Go there now.”_  
“On my way.”  
  
She had to run to the top of the steep hill as well- exhaustion didn’t matter when it came to avoiding being caught… And this made for pretty fucking good cardio.  
“I’m here,” she panted, slipping inside the gate of the tower. Peering around in every direction to make sure no one was coming.  
_“Good. I will need signals box to get patched in. Have a look around for it.”_ _  
_ “What would it look like?” She came to the little shack inside of the fence. The door to get in was locked- but there were power cabinets outside of it. She didn’t want to touch anything that might electrocute her.  
_“Like box with electrical panels inside. Like power source.”_ _  
_ “This might be it then,” She came to the front of the largest cabinet and opened it up.  
Pavel gave her instructions on how to hack into the CCTV, and told her to view camera feed from her phone.  
  
_“This must be inside the compound,”_ Pavel noted.  
Tommie watched the feed from her screen, keeping the volume low enough where she could hear it- but not be heard from a distance.  
Cages inside-- like a zoo. A man she saw on the airstrip earlier was looking inside of one when El Rubio and a couple of armed men approached.  
Strickler began to scold the other man- Gustavo.  
_“Is that a panther in there?”_ Pavel asked after a large black cat strode in front of the camera’s view.  
“Dave did say he had a panther,” Tommie noted.  
_“You know there is old Russian proverb.”_ _  
_ “What’s that?”  
_“Do not trust German with panther.”_ _  
_ “Words to live by,” Tommie had to agree, watching Strickler continue to reprimand his assistant.  
And then had him shoved inside the cage.  
“ _Oh shit_ -” Both Tommie and Pavel simultaneously gasped.  
The panther didn’t hesitate to pounce on Gustavo and bring him down. And within seconds, the man was dead on the ground with his throat torn out.  
Tommie had clamped her hand over her mouth, letting out a flurry of muffled, horrified curses. “That was so fucked up. I’ve seen some fucked up shit but _that_ was a new thing for me. _Fuck!_ ”  
_“Oh… No. Oh…”_ Pavel was just as nauseated, at a loss for words for a few seconds. _“You see? This is a lesson to us all, I think. If our friend had known the Russian proverb, he would not be cat food now, yes?”_  
“Uh huh,” Tommie quickly switched to another camera feed to try to move on from the moment. Anything to get this image out of her head.  
  
They identified targets together as she flipped between camera feeds. Paintings, piles of cash, gold bouillon-- and a safe below Strickler’s office. All things ripe for the taking- and hers to claim. Miguel only wanted the files. The rest was at her discretion.  
_“Very good. We think we know where the files are kept. This is the vital information. But there will be much more to learn. Entrances and exits to find, tools, equipment- and of course, the really important things: cash, valuables, contraband.”_

“We can plan that out later, right?” She asked, slipping out of the gate and making her way back down the hill to hide in the vegetation again. She felt exposed up here. “I need to get out of here.”  
_“Very well. You should make your way back to the party and ask for escort to airstrip.”_ _  
_ “Done and done,” she nodded.  
_“Just do not get caught, Kapitan.”_ _  
_ Now that she knew where the guards were posted, it was easier to slip out of Strickler’s base of operations.  
She’d done well so far. She was actually kinda proud of it.  
Only a matter of minutes stood between her and being able to relax on the plane ride back to Los Santos. Then she could call Miguel and let him hear about a job well done- and then get with Pavel to continue planning the next stage.  
It felt like winning a game- as horrifying as it all was. Heart still pounding in her chest, unrelenting and unwilling to let her body go even slightly slack as she crept out of the security checkpoint she’d gone through earlier.  
Using the tree cover, she hurried back to the gate- the only thing separating her from blending back into the beach party.  
  
She reached the gate, taking a moment as soon as her hand touched it. She leaned against it, forehead to the sun-warmed metal to try to center herself.  
All she had to do now was go inside. And she was done.  
Thank fucking god-  
“Hey!”  
Oh no.  
She spun, and froze like a deer in headlights. A guard, on foot, was approaching. With his rifle aimed straight at her chest.  
She was fucking caught.  
Tommie felt the prickling grip of dread on the entire back of her body, and she shakily raised her hands in surrender as the guard approached. Certain that she was about to die. She couldn’t even find her voice quick enough to lie about why she was outside the gate.  
And when he was in point blank range, he opted to smash the butt of his gun into her chest- and she dropped to the dirt with a pained grunt. Barely able to suck in a breath. Winded. She lifted herself a few mere inches off of the dirt before she was hit again- in the face.  
And then she blacked out.


	4. Los Moretónes (Bruises)

The blackout must’ve lasted a few minutes.  
The next thing Tommie was aware of was that she was slumped lazily in the back seat of a car, being carted onto the airfield. Acutely aware of the pain in her cheekbone where she was hit.   
She said nothing while she was forcefully escorted out of the car and pushed toward where the pilot was idling at a table outdoors.  
"Party too hard?" He asked, looking at her over the rims of his sunglasses.  
“Yeah, something like that,” she muttered. Served her right for celebrating too early.“I just wanna get the fuck out of here.”  
“Leaving, are we!?” Dave asked, still in good spirits as he walked up.   
“Yup, right now, let’s go!” Tommie answered, striding toward the plane in a hurry. The pilot was well ahead of them now, boarding and starting his checks.  
“Yeah, no problem,” he grinned as he approached- then noticed the bruise on her face. “What happened there?”  
“Nothing,” she deflected. “You have any fun?”  
“Oh, for sure!” He said. “Told you I was being a good boy. Practically sober.” They walked toward the jet together. “Straight, balanced, the ups and downs in perfect alignment. It’s a proper rager back there, but we are _offski._ Not even going back for one more tune. Nah, not even a little one. Let’s go then. No more boogies, no afters, no watching the sun come up over the ocean in the one place on the planet we can guarantee the marching powder won’t run out-”  
Tommie side-eyed him, stopping on the stairs to board the plane. “Dave, do you just wanna go back to the party?”  
“...Yeah. Fuck it, I’m staying,” he said, backing away. To no one’s surprise. “I don’t care if I don’t have a ride home, Dave will find a way. This thing ain’t over yet! Let’s have soooome!”   
Tommie shook her head and sighed while she watched Dave walk off. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.” She turned to the cockpit. “Let’s go, it’s just gonna be me.”  
  
The plane took off minutes later, and Tommie finally felt like her heart stopped rattling in her chest as she watched Cayo Perico shrink in the distance.  
Her face fucking hurt.  
She raised a hand to touch it and check for blood- and cringed when she felt pain in the right side of her chest.   
That guy had fucking titpunched her with his rifle. Muscle and bone ached from the blunt force and she was guaranteed to have an ugly bruise.  
Her fingers came away from her face with a trace amount of dry blood.  
At least she could tell Pavel that she came away alive after getting caught.   
  
This whole experience was stressful. She hadn’t felt this level of anxiety and adrenaline in a long time.  
She hated every minute of it, just like she used to...  
And it was fucking _intoxicating_.  
  
Hours later when the plane touched down in Los Santos and Tommie disembarked, all she wanted to do was take a shower.  
She’d gone all day without one because she was running late this morning- and she spent all day on Cayo _fucking_ Perico just sweating her ass off from running around in the humid ass jungle. The warm, arid nighttime in Los Santos felt like a fucking luxury after that.  
Getting into her car felt like the final stretch of a long journey.   
First things first- she sent a text to Miguel stating that she finished reconnaissance and was off the plane.   
And he called her.  
"Hey," she answered and buckled up to go. Caught off guard by the call, rather than a text.  
_"So, how'd it go?"  
_"Got some pretty solid intel," she said, starting her car. The call transferred to Bluetooth. “I know you said you wanted to meet up again when I got back-" No. No no no she looked like a mess and he wanted to see her? Shit. "- but I'm not really at my best right now, so-"  
_“You’re good,”_ he said. _“I got some family shit going on right now.”_ Who even knew what that meant for him and his family? _“Give it a few days, I’ll get back to you.”_  
Good, then she could rest. “I’ll see you then.”  
  
A deep purple bruise on her upper chest glared back at her in the mirror. Directly above her right boob.   
It matched the one on her face.  
She looked like a mess. Knowing that made her glad she had gone straight back to Paleto. She didn't want to be seen like this.  
She had to move slowly to get clean. Her body was sore and sluggish. She wanted to go to bed as quickly as possible to end this shitshow of a day.  
Getting dressed afterward was a slow endeavor as well- the hardest part being to lift her arms enough to pull on her shirt.   
Her hands dropping to her sides was such a relief after that.  
Even with the shower and clean clothes, she looked rough- and felt just as much.   
  
Much of the bruising faded. Now just a little remained on her face and body- and the scabs on her cheek were getting ready to come off. Hopefully without scarring.  
There was a week of radio silence since leaving the island- both from Pavel and Miguel.   
Tommie spent that time living day-to-day life- which lost much of its appeal now that she'd tasted the old life again.   
Now that she felt like Tommie Vercetti again. Falling off the wagon and feeding into her addiction to adrenaline and danger.   
Fuck, she hated it.   
But it felt damn good to be back.  
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and closely assessed the evidence of being caught on Cayo Perico. This was nothing compared to what she should've gotten.   
Hell, she could've been fed to the fucking panther.  
The idea of it made her grimace, and she tried not to remember the video of Gustavo being fed to the big cat. Not something she ever wanted to see.   
Her phone buzzing on the bathroom counter quickly took her mind off of the experience.  
_"Come out to the penthouse and we'll talk business."_ From Miguel.  
She felt a different kind of anxiety in the pit of her stomach when she read that, and quickly (maybe too quickly?) sent a reply that she would be on her way shortly.  
… She wondered if she should change clothes.  
Why the fuck did it matter?  
  
It took hours to drive out, again- Tommie wondered if she should invest in a hotel room after all when she arrived around eleven at night.   
Compulsion made her use her phone’s camera as a mirror while she examined her scabbed cheekbone one more time in the elevator. She regretted not putting makeup over it- not that it would've hidden anything. She just had to hope he wouldn't point it out. She hated that she cared.  
The elevator doors soon opened on the penthouse level. "Miguel? I'm here!"  
"Come on over this way!"   
She followed his voice to the master suite and found him sitting in front of the tv. "So, tell me about--" his demeanor visibly changed when he saw the remaining bruising on her face. "- what the _fuck_ happened to you." He got up from his seat to come closer.  
"I got caught when I was trying to sneak back into Strickler's party," she said, embarrassed. "It's not as bad as it looks."  
"Does it hurt?"   
"Not anymore. I've had worse," Tommie was surprised to see him evaluating the injury so closely.   
Why did he care? He didn't have to care.   
"How much worse?" He asked with a half-hearted chuckle. Clearly trying to be casual.   
"I mean, I've been _shot_ a couple times, so..."  
He looked unsure of if she was serious.  
  
At least it was only a little scrape now.   
She could've come away much worse- or not at all.  
Maybe it bothered him so much because it was something that happened under his command. Maybe it was because it was on Strickler's island. Maybe it was because he didn't know about it until now.   
Maybe he just didn't want to see her hurt because he kinda liked her.  
"Hey, you want anything to drink?" He had to take the focus off of it. They didn’t know each other enough for him to need to worry about her.   
Sure, they were hanging out, but it was casual as far as he was concerned.   
It didn’t need to be any deeper than that.  
Tommie shook her head. "I'm driving home after this. Or- tomorrow morning. I’m gonna get a room this time.”  
"Why don't you just stay up here?" He shrugged. "I can give you the key as long as you don't mind me or my mom dropping by."  
She frowned. "I thought you _lived_ here."  
"Full time? No. I got a place in Richman Glen. I just crash here when I don't feel like driving… Or when I'm not sober enough to drive."  
“How _responsible_ ,” she teased.  
“Don’t tell anybody,” he chuckled and nodded toward the tequila. “So- drink?”  
“Well, I got a place to sleep, so…” She grabbed an empty shot glass off the minibar. “Drink.”  
  
She went over the details of her trip to Cayo Perico after they were a few shots deep.   
Starting from El Rubio’s demeanor, to the militarization of the island, sneaking out of the party, getting through the checkpoint and making her way to the comms tower to see the score. The panther, the way back to the party, and getting caught right at the finish line.  
“Long story short,” she said, pleasantly numbed by the alcohol to where she still felt the bruising but didn’t care. Defenses lowered, letting herself behave more like _herself_ , rather than the dulled version she’d displayed for months. “I found your files. I’m just waiting on Pavel to hit me up with the next step.”  
“Dude. _Dude!_ ” Miguel beamed. “Fucking _perfect_ , I knew you could get it done!”  
“And how did you know that?” They never left where they were standing at the minibar. Just taking turns leaning against it or pacing nearby while they conversed.  
“I’d just always heard the Vercetti family was full of badasses,” he said. “You do not disappoint.”  
She scoffed and took her shot before he poured himself one as well. “So… You hired me based on _rumors._ ”  
“You could call it that.”  
“Rumors based on what my _dad’s_ done for the family name,” she idly tapped her shot glass against the bartop. “Without knowing a single thing about whether or not _I_ was up to that kind of reputation, not knowing if I’ve contributed anything to the name, but just… assuming.”  
“Mmhm,” he hummed before drinking.   
“Bold move, considering you don’t know a damn thing about me.”  
He set his glass down, leaning against the bar not far from her. “I know you’re considered famous. You’ve been on the red carpet, you’ve modeled for fashion magazines, you’ve had shit written about you everywhere at least once when word got out about your inheritance.”  
Well, at least he’d done _some_ research.   
And while all those things were true, they were all only based on what power having her name could get her. Vinewood loved infamy and controversy just as much as they loved fame and fortune.   
All rich people were criminals, some were just guilty of direct action.  
“That’s just random trivia,” she waved it off. “You don’t know _details._ The shit done out of the public eye. You know me and _my_ family about as much as I know you and _your_ family.”  
“Do you want to?”  
She shook her head. “Know your family? Not really. Cartel and mafia life was never my thing… You wanna hear a secret?”  
  
Frankly, Miguel was surprised.  
Nobody really bothered to be in his good graces without knowing the infamous Martin Madrazo’s reputation first.   
So she was just here for _him_.   
And she rejected the offer to hear about the _rest_ of the Madrazo clan.  
“Alright, let’s hear it.”  
Tommie leaned over toward him as if to keep what she would say private, in spite of the otherwise empty penthouse. “I broke up the Vercetti gang when my dad died. It doesn’t exist anymore. Vice City is just free real estate now and I don’t fucking care what happens to it because I’m _here_ and I have my own agenda. Not my dad’s.”  
Again, a surprise.   
Tommie wasn’t the first he’d met of the younger criminal generation, but she was definitely the first who didn’t have any interest in continuing her family’s legacy. She was just cashing in on it while it still had power.  
She was really something.  
_Ambitious_. And wasting it on living in the shadows as an otherwise normal person now. Out in Paleto Bay, where it took a lot of effort and money to find her.  
Her name had been legally changed, a fake history had been well fabricated.  
But witness protection wasn’t perfect.  
The Madrazo family had found people before, but she was easily the hardest to find.  
Whoever hid her did a pretty good job.   
“What’s your agenda then?”  
“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” She teased.  
“Yeah, I think I want to.”  
Tommie smirked. A moment of staring each other down, before Tommie broke eye contact to pour herself another drink. “I don’t think you do.”  
She was flirting with him-- whether it was intentional or not was up to debate. But having some drinks in her system must’ve brought it out in her.   
She wasn’t the same bitter introvert he’d seen so far- so was this the _real_ Tommie Vercetti starting to come out?  
_She_ was interesting. She hadn’t even divulged any major personal information about herself. Strategic even when under the influence.  
  
She pretended not to see him, in her periphery, still staring at her in a brief silence.   
Suspense. She didn’t know what would happen at the end of this conversation anymore. But she wanted to find out.  
“I’m surprised Kaylee’s not here to hang out,” she noted.   
He must’ve caught on to what she was doing. “Why’s that?”   
"You guys are a thing, right?"   
He shrugged and poured himself another shot as well. "We were friends with benefits in school. That's about it. Been a long time since then."  
"When were you at ULSA, by the way?" Tommie remembered Jackie stating it. "I went there too. Two year degree, nothing huge."  
"2011 to 2013."  
"We were there at the same time," she noted. "I don’t think I ever saw you."  
"I don't think I saw you there either," Miguel nodded. "Think I'd have remembered you if I did."  
A brief silence. Miguel drank his ounce of tequila.  
Yeah, he was definitely flirting with her. And she was dumb enough to do it right back.  
"So what about you?" Miguel asked. "Any friends with benefits?"  
Okay, so she knew where this was going now. "Nah."  
“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”  
It wasn’t the first time anyone asked her that question over drinks, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She missed this game. “Why do you ask?”  
“It’s part of that ‘knowing your agenda’ thing.” He edged a little closer toward her and smiled, and it was contagious.  
She caught herself smiling too, keeping right where she was. Making him put in the effort to close the narrow distance between them. Idly tapping the rim of her still full glass. “Nope. I’m not doing anything with anyone these days… But I’m open to it. If I find the right person.”  
“What makes ‘the right person’?” He asked.   
She absently leaned a little closer after all. Aware now of how intensely they were making eye contact. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll know it when I see it.”  
They kept staring each other down, daring the other to make the next move for a long few seconds.  
  
Until the elevator doors opened down the hall, and Patricia came into the penthouse in the middle of a phone call in fluent Spanish.   
Miguel and Tommie quickly moved further apart, taken out of the moment before Patricia could round the corner into the main suite. Carrying some shopping bags.   
"Jesus," Miguel sighed, not bothering to hide his frustration. "She always shows up here without a heads up."  
"Yeah, I know what that's like," Tommie anxiously replied and finally downed the shot she'd last poured. Her face felt hot.   
"Hello, Miguelito," Patricia broke from Spanish for a second to address her son and pull him into a hug- which he awkwardly went along with. Embarrassed to be treated like a baby in front of company. Patricia affectionately set a hand on Tommie’s arm and greeted her with a "hi, sweetie, how are you doing?" Allowing Tommie to tell her she was fine before returning to her phone call, moving for the couch to set her bags on the floor beside it.   
"She looks pissed at whoever she’s talking to," Tommie murmured.   
Miguel nodded. "She's talking to my dad. They're getting divorced."  
" _Oh_."  
Patricia ended the call abruptly, after a half-hearted goodbye to Mr. Madrazo, and came over to the bar with an irate sigh to pour herself a drink. "Ugh. Your father…" She froze when she noticed the scrape and remnants of a bruise on Tommie’s cheek. "Oh, what happened…?" She didn't hesitate to take Tommie’s face in her hands to examine the bruise more closely.   
Tommie was momentarily stunned by the casual intimacy. Like Patricia was her own mother. "I-- I got hit."  
"Oh, no…" Patricia frowned, then nudged her son with the back of her hand. "And you didn't get her any ice?"  
"She didn't ask for any- ow!" Miguel winced when his mother nudged him harder.   
"Go get some ice."  
"I'm going, I'm going!" Miguel grabbed the empty ice bucket off of the bar counter and carried it out of the suite- likely having to go to another floor.   
Tommie chuckled as she watched him go, then turned back to Patricia. "Thank you. I dunno if ice would do me any good by now. It’s almost gone."  
"It's still something to help," Patricia took Tommie's hand and patted it, then pulled her toward the couch to sit down side-by-side. "I wanted to ask you something."  
"Trevor?" Tommie asked. "Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that too."  
"Is he doing okay?"  
Tommie visibly tensed, jaw clenched.   
Patricia understood the hesitation. "I see…"  
Silence followed.   
She didn’t want to divulge the details of the horrible event. She barely knew everything herself, but the nature of the whole thing was so awful. And she still blamed herself for it, even knowing it wasn’t really her fault.  
"He talked about you sometimes," Tommie told her. "He… He really loved you." She exhaled a deep breath and allowed her gaze to fall to the floor.   
"And you two were…?  
"Together? Yeah. On and off. Up to the end."  
Patricia nodded. If anyone knew how complicated Trevor was, it was her.   
  
Michael might have known him much longer, but these two women knew him much _better._ They had seen every side of him to the fullest.  
All she’d ever heard about Patricia from either Trevor _or_ Michael was how delicately she’d been treated. How she brought out the small amount of Trevor’s _best_.  
And Tommie had inexplicably received more of his worst.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Tommie told her. “I know that’s not really something you probably wanna hear about, or-- none of it is. Sorry.”  
“I’m sorry for you too,” Patricia replied. The first person to truly understand the loss and the first to truly sympathize with how she felt. "You'll be okay, sweetie."  
"I am okay."  
"Good." She patted Tommie’s hand. She didn’t know Tommie well enough to question the denial of pain. So she accepted it as the truth.  
Miguel rounded the corner with the ice bucket. "Had to go two floors down because the fucking machines are out of order but I got it." He brought the ice to the minibar to put a few cubes into one of the provided plastic liners for the bucket. And noticed his mom and Tommie sitting together. "What were you talking about?"  
"How cute you were as a baby," Patricia deflected with a smile.   
Miguel's face went red, and he turned away to hide it when he saw Tommie’s cocky smirk.  
  
They had a late dinner together, talked, laughed. Tommie hadn't noticed the passage of time until it was well past one in the morning and fatigue set in.  
Spending time with Patricia and Miguel was like being part of a family again.  
"This was nice, but I _need_ to go to bed," Patricia announced at a quarter past one. “Miguelito, would you drive me home please?”  
“Sure,” Miguel agreed, eyes turning to Tommie. “We gotta let you sleep sometime.”  
"Oh, you're good," Tommie said, followed by a yawn. "I'm having fun."   
She hadn’t had another drink since Patricia’s arrival, and sobered up a little in that time.  
  
The Madrazos got up to go, and Tommie walked them out.   
Patricia pulled her into a hug after calling the elevator. "Thank you for helping my boy. I know you’re not done yet but we still appreciate it."  
"No worries," Tommie smiled and returned the affectionate gesture. “I’m actually having some fun with it.”  
It was weird to be so cared for by a stranger. Especially given the circumstance.  
… Hell, it was weird to be _cared for_ again, full stop.  
The elevator doors opened and Patricia stepped into the elevator.  
"Go on ahead and tell the valet to get the car, I'll be down in a second," Miguel told his mother.   
"G’night, Mrs. Madrazo," Tommie told her.   
"Good night, stay safe," Patricia smiled and allowed the elevator doors to close.   
Leaving Tommie and Miguel alone again. Once more, standing a little _close_.   
Miguel took a second to think before he broke the silence. "Uh- about earlier-"   
"Oh-" Tommie blinked. "Sorry. I get really stupid when I drink. That's kinda why I don't do it much anymore."  
He didn't seem fazed. "What part was stupid?"  
Tommie scoffed. "Y’know…"  
He let slip a laugh. "You can't even _say_ it. The hardass can't even say 'the part where I was hitting on you'."  
Tommie knew she was turning red. "You’re just as guilty as I am, we both know it."   
“Do we?”  
“ _Shuuuut uuuuup._ ”  
He leaned toward her. "Why don't you make me?"  
“I don’t think there’s time for that,” she joked. “But I can shove you into the next elevator if that works for you. ‘Cause that’d work for me.” She moved out of arms reach to hit the call button for the elevator. “C’mon, your mom’s waiting on you.”  
Miguel didn’t take his eyes off her until the elevator doors opened once more. Perplexed.   
She knew she was sending mixed signals. She’d have to explain that sometime. But now wasn’t the time.  
“You’re off the hook this time,” he said. “Good fuckin’ luck getting me to shut up _twice._ ” He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back wall. “Hit me up when you make some progress on the job?”  
“Sure thing… And thanks for letting me stay here,” she smiled.  
She saw him return the look when the doors closed.  
  
Any other person, any other circumstance, maybe another drink or two in her system… She might’ve taken the next step tonight.  
But he was her employer. First and foremost.  
The last thing she needed was to get all fucked up over somebody she wouldn’t likely see again when it was all said and done.   
It was bad enough that she _wanted_ to be friends with him.  
Worse, talking about Trevor had brought old feelings to the surface.  
And the lingering hurt that had spent so much time buried, came to the surface again.


	5. Montar o Morir (Ride or Die)

The submarine was off the coast of San Chianski.   
The Diamond wasn't more than a couple of hours away from the area, and Tommie was on her way out bright and early- after a call from Pavel stating that he had a plan in place. At four in the morning.   
Never leaving the Kosatka apparently fucked with his sense of time.  
  
When she reached the sub and climbed down the ladder, she found Pavel eyeing the sonar panels.   
“Ah, Kapitan!” He greeted, ever jolly. “Glad you are here, I have spent all week drawing up plans for breaking into Mr. Rubio’s basement. Come, look.”   
“You already have a plan?” Tommie followed him toward the console in the center of the bridge.   
Pavel touched the screen and it once again displayed the map of Cayo Perico. “Yes, but there are some things you will need to do first. By the time we make our move, the party will be over, and your DJ friends will be gone.”

“They’re _still_ partying?” Tommie winced. Jesus, it’d been over a week.  
Pavel nodded and continued. “We will need equipment for getting into the basement and cracking the safe where the documents are kept. And of course: weapons… As plan B. Or maybe plan A. Up to you.”  
“I’d rather have ‘em and not need ‘em,” she said.  
“Good plan,” Pavel agreed.   
“What equipment are we gonna need?”  
“First, I suggest cutting tool. While you were leaving the party, I was circling the land. I found drainage tunnel right below Mr. Rubio’s compound. That will be your easiest way in.”  
“... A sewer.”  
“Yes.”  
“ _Gross_.”  
“Very.”  
  
A construction site near Rockford Hills allegedly had the necessary tool to cut into the drainage tunnel.   
Tommie didn’t feel good about going near Rockford Hills- where her most loved and most _hated_ people still resided. Not knowing she was still in San Andreas.   
She had to take care to not be seen. Sticking exclusively to back roads on her way out to the site.  
Much too close to her old home on Portola Drive-- right across the street, actually. Tucked away in a cul-de-sac.  
She parked her car near the site and got out- and was immediately met with the sounds of work. Power tools, the telltale beeping of machinery being put in reverse. Part of the ambience of Los Santos that made it feel like home again.  
And made her homesick.  
“Focus,” she muttered under her breath as she strode toward the construction site. “Just fucking focus… Pretend you belong.”  
At least her outfit was relatively appropriate. Jeans, sneakers, and a loose hoodie were easy to pass off as workwear. And she managed to snag one of the orange vests and hardhats on her way up.   
Apparently cutting tools like this had the habit of “going missing” in Los Santos. Pavel had warned her about the armed security guards standing watch at the site to keep such a tool from being taken offsite.  
Blending in would likely save her life today.  
She stopped in her tracks near where she found the disguise and took her phone out of her pocket to text Pavel.  
 _“How do I know what the tool looks like?”_  
Pavel replied quickly with a screenshot of the tool on a hardware store’s website.  
And before Tommie could get a good look at it-  
“Hey! Put your fucking phone away while work's being done!”  
She all but jumped out of her skin, and shoved the device back in her pocket as a man in a dress shirt and pants approached her. Also donning a hardhat, but definitely not doing the heavy lifting. The foreman, she guessed.   
“Where’s your safety glasses?” He asked, irate. Clearly assuming incompetence.  
“Sorry!” She quickly said, and thought up a lie. “It’s my first day, I think I left them in a toolbox. I can’t remember which one. Can I go get ‘em?”  
He rolled his eyes at that. But seemed to buy that she was just an incompetent worker. He had a pair hooked into the collar of his shirt, and he took them off to pass them over. “Go get yours and bring these back. Hurry up.”  
“Thank you _so much_ , I’ll be right back!” Tommie expertly put on a false look of relief, and put the plastic glasses on before she continued into the site.   
It was loud, and she had to move with some urgency in hopes of protecting her hearing. She passed up the guards- who paid her little mind in her disguise.   
One by one, she searched toolboxes- taking a second on the first to get a good look at the picture Pavel sent.  
It wasn’t until the fourth box that she found the tool in question, glancing around to make sure nobody was looking, and then she shoved it under her hoodie, tucked into the back of her jeans like a concealed weapon.   
If it was hard to see under the baggy sweatshirt, the vest on top made it impossible.  
With her task completed, she moved through the work area back toward where the foreman had been waiting for her.   
“You find your glasses?” He asked pointedly.  
“Somebody might’ve picked them up,” she expertly lied, handing his glasses back to him. “I got a spare pair in my trunk, I’ll grab those and be right back.”  
“Just _hurry up_ ,” he emphasized. “Break ended twenty minutes ago and if I let you off, I gotta let _everyone_ off, get it?”  
“I get it,” she did not give a single shit. “I’ll be real quick, I promise!” She strode toward her car and was soon out of the foreman’s line of sight. Quickly getting into the vehicle and ditching the hard hat, she took the tool out from under her clothes and put it into the passenger side floor.   
She started her car and drove off, instantly relieved by the distance gained from the construction site. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, then quickly called Pavel.  
 _“Kapitan, did you get the goods?”_ _  
_“I got it,” she told him. “Got to play some pretend to do it too. Are you sure they can’t trace this?”  
 _“As long as it is destroyed when the job is done, Mr. Rubio can not trace it, I assure you.”_  
“Good,” she sighed, stopping at a red light and sliding out of the orange vest. She threw it into the back seats to dispose of later- along with the hard hat. “What’s next?”  
 _“Next I recommend retrieving the code for the safe. Without this, the operation is pointless.”_ _  
_“Solid. Where do I find it?”  
 _“The only man apart from Mr. Rubio who has the codes is head of security. A tough cookie, as you Americans say-”_ _  
_Tommie got a chuckle out of that.  
 _“- But lucky for us, this cookie has serious party habit. Today is our only chance. He is in Los Santos, making mess in Mr. Rubio’s penthouse at Diamond Casino.”_ _  
_“The Diamond? That’s convenient.”  
 _“How is that, Kapitan?”_ _  
_“Miguel’s letting me stay at _his_ penthouse there. I can just get the codes and hide out until the heat dies down.”  
A brief silence from Pavel. _“You are staying in Mini Madrazo’s penthouse?”_  
“I mean-- it’s a long drive from where I actually _live_ so he’s letting me crash there until the job is done.”  
 _“... Right, eh-”_ he changed the subject back to work. _“If we are clever and sneaky, perhaps we do this without alerting anyone.”_  
“I can hear the judgment from here, Pavel,” she flatly told him. “It’s _not_ like that.” Even if she did think about him a lot. And did feel attraction. And _had_ already almost kissed him.   
It just wasn’t like that because it simply _wasn’t._  
 _“I did not say anything!”_ Another shift of focus. _“You know Kapitan- I remember you asking why you were chosen for this job. But I never ask you this: why did you accept?”_ _  
_“It’s complicated,” Tommie replied, driving toward the Diamond. “The Madrazos apparently knew how to find me- I’m not sure how. Miguel said I’d be ‘looked after’ if I did this.”  
 _“And you need that?”_  
“After the shit I’ve done? Definitely,” she sighed. “And then there’s the pay. The final decision came down to that. Like it always does.”   
_“You know, Kapitan, I look back at my own career and ask myself: why? The robberies conducted, the assassinations carried out. The insurrections supported or crushed, the late nights, the early mornings, the fatigue. The diet of red caviar and navy wine, the endless vitamin D supplements. But of course, you ask yourself the same question, yes?”_ _  
_“All the time.”  
 _“And you give the same answer: money!”_ He laughed.  
Tommie found herself grinning at that.  
Even if she were a lowlife degenerate, at least she was a lowlife degenerate for the same reason anyone else would be: the almighty dollar.  
And even more, she needed the excitement in order to feel alive.  
  
“Okay, I’m pulling up to the Diamond right now.”  
 _“I will send you a photograph of the head of security. Just a moment.”_  
“Alright, uh--” she pursed her lips, thinking out how to approach this. “I’m gonna do this one _my_ way.”  
 _“What is your way?”_   
“Same way any sensible douchebag in this city does: I’m gonna crash the party and pretend I belong,” she left her car and headed toward the front doors of the casino. “And I’m gonna have to _look_ like I belong.”  
  
There was a store in the lobby of the casino- and the clothing was overpriced.  
A dress and a decent pair of shoes came down to a thousand dollars- which she at least had. She was already planning on returning the items once this was done.  
She changed in the Madrazos' penthouse and then went to the floor below where, apparently, El Rubio had his own penthouse.  
Tommie managed to blend into the party with ease, and manipulated her way into close proximity with Strickler’s head of security; where she pickpocketed him.   
Some people were just old school enough to assume keeping a piece of paper with classified information on their person was safe enough.   
Some people didn’t count on someone knowing what that classified information related to when it was stolen.  
Though she didn’t _keep_ the code. Instead memorizing the numbers and making sure the man would have all of his belongings.   
Zero suspicion.  
Tommie had excused herself from drinking with him to go into the bathroom and write the safe code on her upper thigh- where it was well hidden under her dress.  
Soon after, she excused herself from the party under the guise of feeling just a _little_ too drunk and wanting to go lie down.  
Seamless.  
She left the penthouse just as breezily as she’d entered, going upstairs to the Madrazo unit and locking herself inside.  
Finally feeling like she could exhale.  
“Ohhh, fuck me,” she muttered under her breath, leaned against the closed doors. “I hate this shit.”   
It brought back memories of posing as a stripper in Vice City- in order to assassinate the head of the Leone family. She hated that too.  
Every minute of it was pure anxiety- just like this.  
And yet, she couldn’t deny that this kind of stress was fun.   
Like waiting for the drop at the very top of a rollercoaster.  
It was a shame she only ever did one bank job with Trevor and the guys. She turned out to be a better liar, con artist, thief, and murderer than anyone expected.  
She took in a deep breath, let it out to center herself, and headed for the master suite to get out of her outfit. On the way, picking her phone off of the bartop and calling Pavel.  
“I did it,” she said when he answered. “I got the safe code. I’ll text it to you in a minute.”  
 _“Excellent, Kapitan,”_ Pavel beamed. _“All went well?”_  
“Yeah, I picked it off him, wrote it down, and put it back. He won’t know anything’s different.” She put him on speaker while she undressed in the bathroom.  
 _“Good. Send me the code, you can bring cutting tool next time you come to the submarine. But I must warn you- this is the last of easy work.”_ _  
_“Lovely,” she muttered, eyeing the last remnants of the bruise on her chest in the mirror. Barely noticeable, unless you knew it was there. It had faded a lot over the last few days since she’d started icing it- under Patricia’s orders. “I think I need a day or two after this to be ready for more.”  
 _“We have time to work, Kapitan. We are not in any rush.”_ _  
_  
She would need to get more clothes, eventually. She only made the stop to Paleto once since getting the key to the penthouse- and only packed a single backpack’s worth of clothes.  
She could risk going out into town and buying more clothes; but she might be seen by someone she knew. Word would get to Michael. He would look for her.   
And she was already likely designated as “missing” or dead. Nothing was stopping him from killing her now if he found her.   
All because she’d chosen to let him live.  
… What if she asked the Madrazo family to help take care of this? In exchange for helping them with their El Rubio problem.  
She could probably do that.  
“Ugh, forget it,” she told herself and dropped onto the king sized bed in the master bedroom. “Just leave it alone. You’re alive… And so is he. And you just have to live with that.”  
After all, it’d been around two years since she last saw him.   
She had him at gunpoint, but she chose to let him go.  
What a dumb fucking decision… She could’ve ended-  
Her phone rang from the nightstand, and she picked it up without bothering to see who was calling. “Yeah?”  
 _“I heard you got the safe code!”_ Miguel did not bother to hide his excitement. _“This is_ _so_ _fuckin’ sweet, we’re making real progress. I just wish I could be there to see Rubio’s face when it all goes down.”_ _  
_The corner of Tommie’s mouth turned upward. She liked to hear him speak when he was hyped up. “Mmhm. Just a few more things left to do until the big show.”  
 _“Love it,”_ Miguel said- then she could overhear Patricia’s voice in the background. _“Jesus, okay… My mom would like me to invite you over for dinner.”_ _  
_Tommie let out a laugh, knowing what that phrasing had implied. “ _Reeeaaally?_ ”  
 _“Don’t get_ _too_ _excited.”_  
“Why, ‘cause your mom’s so nice and we can talk about you as a little baby again?” She teased and sat up in the center of the bed.  
Miguel spluttered. _“Sh-shut up! Just come out here. I’ll text you the address.”_ _  
_“Right _now_ right now?” She pulled back her phone and checked the time at the top of the screen. Definitely around dinnertime. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until now. Did she even eat today? “Okay. Yeah. I’ll head out there in a minute.”  
 _“See you then.”_ _  
_“See you then.”  
  
The address he gave her brought her out to Vinewood Hills- right on the edge of Richman Glen. The house was a mansion- much larger than she had anticipated.   
She felt kinda ridiculous caring about appearances again.  
It hadn’t mattered for so long, yet here she was constantly checking herself to make sure every strand of hair was in place and that her eyeliner wasn't smudged.  
She had to conduct one more stupid check before she rang the doorbell- and was answered by the same security guard she’d been stopped by in the Music Locker.  
“Uh--” She didn’t know what to say for herself.  
“Miss Vercetti,” he greeted and stepped aside. “Please, come in.”  
“Thanks,” she replied, a little awkwardly, and entered. “I thought you worked for the Diamond.”  
“I’m Mr. Madrazo’s bodyguard,” he clarified, leading her into the house. “I’m Jorge.”  
“Nice to meet you,” she politely replied, looking around the house while she followed him.  
He stopped short of a doorway and motioned for her to enter. She thanked him with a nod and crossed the threshold, finding the kitchen, with large windows that faced the Los Santos skyline.  
Inside, Patricia, cooking something that smelled fantastic.  
“Hi Mrs. Madrazo,” Tommie greeted as she entered.  
“Hello, sweetie,” Patricia greeted. “Here, come help me with this.”  
Tommie rounded the island in the center of the kitchen, and Patricia handed her a spoon and a bowl of masa. She demonstrated how to assemble a tamale, and Tommie got to work on helping.  
“Miguelito is out in the back taking a phone call,” Patricia said while they worked. “I thought it would give us a chance to talk some more.”  
“Oh… What did you wanna talk about?” Trevor, she presumed. There was a lot unsaid last time.  
“How did it happen?”   
“... I can’t talk about it,” Tommie told her, after a hesitant silence. “It’s horrible. It was about four years ago. I'm still--" she shook her head. "I keep thinking I'm over it but I'm not. It wasn’t fair. And I keep wishing I could do something about it."   
Four years later and the thought of his manner of death made her stomach churn. _Burned_. The worst way she could think of.  
Patricia listened, barely masking sadness behind a forced neutral look while she worked. "He was a good man. A gentleman. And you seem like such a nice girl... I'm sure you made him happy."  
"I don't think I did." Tommie admitted the painful truth. "I wasn't enough for him."  
"You were."  
Tommie turned her head to her. "He wasn't a 'gentleman' to _me_. I got reminded constantly that I was just 'some basic floor model Los Santos chick'. I was interchangeable, and it took me a long time to really realize that.”  
  
His exact words. From over seven years ago. She remembered that so clearly- because it was the first cruel thing he ever said to her.   
And it made her believe that she didn’t have any distinguishing characteristics without her family’s reputation to define her.  
She wondered if Miguel felt like that.  
  
“ I’m jealous, not gonna lie. I was ride or die for him and it just sounds like-- he was so much _better_ to you… And I don't know why I deserved that."   
"He didn't know _how_ to be happy," Patricia clarified. "It scared him to love people, even a little bit. I could see that... He needed someone to _show_ him what it was supposed to be like. And you must have, if he kept coming back to you."  
"Maybe." Tommie drew a deep breath, blinking hard to ease the sting of welling up. She really did not want to cry. "It _hurt_ to love Trevor. And I always wondered if that's just what being in a relationship was supposed to be like. Just- hurting all the time but staying anyway because it _feels_ right to."  
“It’s not,” Patricia softly replied. “You’ll see someday. When you fall in love again.”  
They lapsed into silence as Tommie considered that.  
She was tired of dwelling on Trevor's death.  
It hurt, and she didn't want to forget him.  
But it had been four years. She wanted to move on and try to be happy.  
She just didn't know how.  
“You’re good at this,” Patricia told her after a few minutes. “Have you done it before?”  
“Uh-- Once,” Tommie replied. “I think I was ten? We didn’t make a lot from scratch unless we were really in the mood.”  
“We always make them around Christmastime. Is your family Mexican?”  
“We’re Cuban- me and my mom.”  
“Are you and your mother close?”  
Tommie was about to answer- until Miguel came in through the back doors, into the kitchen.  
“Hey,” he greeted, taken aback by Tommie’s presence. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here yet. You should’ve come out, I’d have cut that call short.”  
“No worries,” Tommie smiled devilishly. “We’ve just been talking about _you_ as a baby again.”  
  
Tommie offered to handle the dishes after dinner was over- when Patricia urged Miguel to help her.   
And despite being rich and having power, he didn’t hesitate to help.  
“So. You and my mom are bonding a lot.”  
“Yeah, she’s really nice,” Tommie replied, eyes on her task. She was cleaning, Miguel was putting things away as she finished them.   
“She likes you,” he noted.  
She glanced up for a second. “I’m glad she does.” Blake’s mother hated her, she’d told Trevor’s mother to fuck off- She never had a boyfriend (or girlfriend) with parents who liked her. “A lot of people’s moms do _not_ like me.”  
“You’re a mafia daughter who used to own a strip club, what’s not to like?”  
“ _Right?_ ” Tommie laughed. “Surprised nobody’s wifed me up yet, I’m a _reeeeaaaaal_ catch.” She passed him a clean plate.  
He walked over to a nearby cabinet to put it away. “You say that sarcastically but you’re _actually_ pretty fuckin’ cool.”  
“How am I cool?” She asked. “I did _one_ cool thing that you know of, and got hit in the face for it.”  
He came back over toward the sink and leaned against the counter at her side. “Nah, I mean like- you’re cool. You got a good vibe. You’re fun. You’re-- _likeable_.”  
“Is that code for something?” She rinsed off the last dish and handed it off to him.   
He set it on the counter while she patted her hands dry on the sides of her jeans. He turned toward her, coming within arms reach again, as if to test what she would do this time. “What do _you_ think?”  
  
There were always consequences for her actions, good or bad. She never got completely off the hook for _anything_. The bruises and scars she'd received over her lifetime were testament to that.  
What consequence was awaiting her for being comfortable enough with someone new to actually _like_ them?  
  
“I think you’re crazy.”  
“You already said that before,” he reminded and edged closer again. Just like last time.   
“Yeah, but this time it’s because you think I’m likeable.” She tried to keep her tone light, but there was truth in that statement. She always saw the exhaustion on the faces of friends and family whenever she’d spoken about how she missed Trevor. As if she burdened them with her unresolved trauma.  
As if her trauma made her a difficult person to love.  
“I think I’m willing to fuck around and find out,” Miguel quietly said.  
Tommie managed a chuckle at that, and noticed Miguel leaning in.   
She froze up for a fraction of a second, then flinched backward. “Hang on-- um...”  
“Oh.”  
The instant consequence of trying to make a decent choice. “I’m just- Not feeling so great. Sorry.”  
“It’s cool,” he said, withdrawing to put the last cleaned plate away. Trying to play off the moment like it never happened. Dejected. “Don’t worry, I know you got a lot of shit going on with the job and the-- everything.”  
“This just isn’t a good time for me.” She moved toward where he’d gone to. “This isn’t a ‘no’, it’s a ‘not yet’,” She had no idea how to proceed in this situation. To _like_ someone and want to be their friend as well. Frankly, it was nerve wracking. Like walking a tightrope. She always swayed in one direction or the other- except in Trevor's case. And now, Miguel's. “You’re- you’re ‘ _likeable’_ too.”  
“And you’re ‘crazy’ too,” he replied, trying to keep humor in his tone now that his ego had been a little bruised. But he knew what she was trying to say. “So! In terms of ‘not yet’...”  
“How long of a wait?” she asked, trying to keep things light and bury down her anxiety. “ _Fuck around and find out_.”


	6. Pura Suerte (Pure Luck)

_ “The fingerprint scanner in Mr. Rubio’s office is very latest design. Normal hacking tools will be detected immediately, and the whole place will be sealed.” _ _   
_ “So we’re getting a  _ special  _ tool,” Tommie finished the thought. On the phone with Pavel again while she was behind the wheel on her way through Murrieta Heights.   
It had been a quiet few days since dinner with the Madrazos.   
She didn't like how she left things with Miguel.  
_ “And this one  _ is  _ special,” _ Pavel agreed.  _ “It is Mr. Rubio’s failsafe device, which can reconstruct his fingerprint in case of emergency. This, and only this, will allow us to hack the system. And to get it, we will need to find the mainland archives of his head of cybersecurity.” _   
She parked her car outside of the warehouse marked on her GPS. No cars outside. Was it empty?   
“Is  _ this  _ the archive?” She asked, peering around in every direction to be sure she was alone. “I thought it’d be more… guarded?”   
_ “The archives are relocated every few weeks,” _ Pavel explained.  _ “If we want to find where they are, we need to get into the computer system in this warehouse. It will be highly secured.” _   
“But there’s no one here.”   
_ “There will be cameras. Perhaps you can avoid or destroy them. Or you can kill the power. There has to be a circuit box not too far from here. Whatever you choose, you must act quickly. Mr. Rubio’s security will be upon you fast.” _   
“Power option sounds good,” she got out of her car and was careful to stay out of view of the cameras as she moved around the side of the building. There were a couple of circuit boxes, and she examined each one closely for anything that looked like a master switch. “Y’know, by the time this is over, I’m gonna be a fucking electrician. That's how many times you've had me mess with electronics and tools now.”   
_ “That is a good thing,” _ Pavel mused.  _ “Perhaps I teach you some maintenance skills next time you are on board.” _ _   
_ “I could use the lessons,” she agreed, and found a box that stood out with a red switch. “It’d probably be helpful in the future… Gonna flip this switch I found, wish me luck.”   
She shifted the red knob clockwise, and she heard the HVAC system slow to a halt.   
“Think that turned it all off?” She headed back toward the front of the warehouse, and stole a glimpse at the mounted cameras- their tiny red LED lights were dark.   
_ “One way to find out, Kapitan. Be quick. They will notice the power outage.” _ _   
_ “Here goes,” Tommie jammed her shoulder into the door and the lock was (surprisingly) flimsy enough to give. Inside the warehouse was dark, all power cut.   
Except for a small light against the back wall, which turned out to be the LEDs on a laptop- now running on battery power.   
“I found a computer,” she said and opened the computer. Immediately met with a password login.   
_ “It must have the location of the archives.” _   
“It’s locked. I don’t know the password.”   
_ “You will have to guess, Kapitan,”  _ Pavel said, sounding uneasy.  _ “You do not have much time.” _   
“God-- fuck it!” She typed out the first thing that came to mind. “ _ ‘Panthers’…? _ ”   
The screen changed to a welcome message.   
“You have  _ got  _ to be shitting me.”   
_ “That worked?” _ _   
_ “Yeah, it worked. El Rubio’s cybersecurity is straight fuckin’  _ trash, _ ” Tommie muttered under her breath and opened up as many documents as she could find until she found mention of the archives. “I got it,” she closed everything out and closed the laptop- like she was never there. She bolted for the door, out to her car, and hauled away from the warehouse- hoping to not cross paths with Strickler’s security detail.   
  
_ “Almost there,” _ Pavel noted on her approach.  _ “Be careful, there will be more CCTV here.” _ _   
_ “I don’t suppose there’ll be another switch to kill the power?” Tommie parked in the empty lot beside Del Perro Pier.   
It was a very conspicuous place to hide a drug lord’s archive. But if you wanted to really hide something, you put it in plain sight.    
_ “You can look, but you will have better luck destroying cameras here.” _ _   
_ She made her way toward the steel door and saw two cameras trained on the space right in front of it. She was out of frame as she came closer. A few pieces of loose asphalt from the paved edge of the lot lying nearby stood out to her, and she picked one up that was roughly the size of a baseball.   
“God, I wish I would’ve done sports in high school,” she muttered under her breath, and lobbed the chunk of rock at one of the cameras-- and it swiveled in its mount until it faced the wall. “Oh-  _ fuck yeah! _ ” She grabbed another chunk of asphalt and whipped it at the other camera- missing a couple of shots until she finally got it to turn away from the door.   
She tried the door- locked. But it wiggled in the frame, so it was loose.    
She kicked the door open as hard as she could, and it loudly slammed open. The noise echoed inside as she entered, the interior being a small, concrete walled facility. Vehicles and computer terminals stored inside.“I’m in,” she strode deeper into the archive, head on a swivel to make sure no one was standing guard.    
_ “Now don’t get distracted in there,”  _ Pavel warned.  _ “The failsafe tool will be the size of a credit card. Probably it will have an antennae.” _ _   
_ “Okay, credit card with an antennae,” Tommie confirmed, and searched every surface for a device that matched the description- and found it beside a terminal. “I got it.” She shoved the device into her bra for safe keeping.   
_ “Get it out of there, quickly.” _   
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” she broke into a run toward the door, and slipped quickly out to drive away. “You’re sure they can’t track me after going in there?”   
_ “I am sure. In our line of work, it pays to look ahead, Kapitan. To think of how we cover our tracks. And the most important way will be to destroy all weapons and equipment once we are finished.” _   
“All of it?” Tommie winced, turning onto the highway to leave the area. “But we’re working so hard to get it all…”   
_ “No loose ends,” _ Pavel sternly replied.  _ “Mr. Rubio takes hold of loose end, he will strangle you with it, yes?” _ _   
_ “ _ Oh.. _ .”   
_ “Yes, ‘oh’,” _ he agreed.  _ “Now, it is pure luck none of Mr. Rubio’s guards were present at warehouse and archives. I do not think we will be so lucky for next task.” _   
“Weapons,” Tommie sighed.    
_ “The weapons we are looking for are at… One moment.”  _   
Tommie waited as he found the address.   
_ “707 Vespucci. You know where that is, yes?” _ _   
_ “It’s downtown,” Tommie replied, taking note of her location on the highway and adjusting her route accordingly. “So- the cops are gonna notice if there’s conflict.”   
_ “These are fellow criminals. They do not want to be seen or heard, so this will be ‘private party’. Police likely will not be called.” _ _   
_ “And I’m not armed,” she flatly replied. “I have a switchblade. Nothing else.”   
_ “You must find means of taking these unmarked weapons. Be creative. You know how important it is for weapons we use to be untraceable. Otherwise, we leave one clue behind, Mr. Rubio will find us sooner or later.” _ _   
_ “And strangle us both with our loose ends.”   
_ “Exactly. My suggestion? Make sure the clue leads him to someone else. This is gang operating out of swanky office block, who are bringing in a nice little shipment of unregistered weapons. We go there, take them, and this covers our tracks.” _ _   
_   
The elevator ascended much too slowly.   
Tommie didn’t notice her hands shaking more with every floor gained on the ascent, until she reached into her back pocket for her switchblade and flicked it open. The glint of the overhead lights on the blade added to the tension in her body.    
She was anxious- but she wasn’t afraid.   
_ “You have been quiet since entering the building, Kapitan.” _ Three floors left   
“Not excited for this part.” Two floors.   
_ “Just keep calm. You will be fine if you do not panic.”  _ One floor.   
“I’ll do my best.”    
The doors opened, and Tommie carefully peered outside of the elevator. No one in sight yet.   
She moved to the glass doors of the office suite-- no one.   
She pushed them open just wide enough to slip through. No conversation, no sounds. No people.   
“Wow… We got lucky again.”   
_ “Good!” _ Pavel beamed.  _ “You find weapons then get out, easy day.” _ _   
_ “Easy day,” Tommie agreed.   
_ “Now- we are not looking for regular weapons. This is special shipment, probably kept in hidden gun locker somewhere.” _ _   
_ Tommie huffed. “Great.”   
She thought it likely that they would be in the  _ main _ room of the office. Behind the lonely desk with money stacked on the surface around the open laptop.   
She took a stack and stuffed it into her back pocket. “Finder’s fee…”   
She looked under the desk, nothing.   
She turned around, seeing a blank section of wall with a noticeable seam.   
“That’s it,” she pressed on the wall to see if that would open to a safe door. But it remained locked. “Shit.”   
_ “If you cannot open it, try looking for their computer. Probably unlocks remotely.” _   
“They got one right here,” she replied, turning back to the desk and finding the program on the laptop for unlocking the safe. Password required. Again. ‘I doubt this one’s as easy as ‘panthers’...” She looked around the surface of the desk, inside the drawers- and found a sticky note with a set of numbers. Circled for emphasis. “C’mon, there’s no way these guys are  _ this  _ stupid…” She entered the numbers into the computer. And the safe audibly unlocked behind her.   
_ “What do you mean?” _ _   
_ “They left the fucking safe code written down.”   
_ “Lucky for us, eh?” _   
“For real.” Tommie swung open the door to the gun locker, and was met with a small arsenal. Rifles, pistols, ammo, silencers, and incendiaries. “I don’t know what to take, so I’m gonna take one of each.”    
She had to choose small- she had to subtly get the weapons out to her car. A duffel bag lying beside the desk caught her attention, and she brought it over to the gun locker to load out..   
SMG Mk II, SNS pistol Mk II, magazines, suppressors, and-- “Pipe bombs,” she muttered and carefully picked one up to examine.   
Trevor used to bring her to the gun range- so she was proficient with different types of guns- but she’d never worked with any type of explosive before. She would have to play with these somewhere quiet.   
She shoved five of them into the duffel bag-- carefully. Maybe Pavel could show her how to use them.    
Or should she take the grenades?   
Usage was much more straightforward.   
She picked one up and turned it in her palm, steering clear of the lever and pin. One wrong move and-   
“-What the fuck!?”   
Tommie spun and saw that she’d been caught. She dropped to the floor and scrambled to take cover behind the desk just a split second before the four people who entered the office opened fire on her.   
The gunfire was the only thing louder than her heart hammering in her ears.   
“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck-” her breathless mutters came out involuntarily as her mind blanked. All thought replaced by survival instinct in the blink of an eye.    
_ “Kapitan! What is happening now!?” _   
She couldn’t even think to answer Pavel.    
She outstretched her leg and looped the strap of the duffel bag around her foot to drag it closer.   
And remembered the grenade in her hand. And spotted an unlocked door.   
She looked down at it, and knew what she had to do. “I’m gonna be fucking  _ pissed  _ if this kills me-” she waited for a short slowdown in the gunfire-   
Then pulled the pin and whipped the grenade over the desk.   
“ _ GRENADE!” _ A woman shrieked, and Tommie bolted for the door in hopes that it would lead toward the exit. She barely had time to take cover before-   
**_BOOM!_ ** _   
_ A terrified shriek tore from her throat, and she flinched against the force of the explosion sending a tremor through the entire building.    
She smelled smoke, and the ringing in her ears subsided enough for her to be aware that the fire alarms were going off. Her body hurt- knees and elbows scraped from landing on the carpeting. Abdomen sore from falling on top of the duffel bag full of guns.   
She shakily, urgently got to her feet and hauled the bag over her shoulder. The door she’d entered had been blown off the hinges, and she saw flames on the other side of the frame.   
She couldn’t leave that way.    
She turned around- another door.    
She shoved it open and saw that it led back out to the entrance of the suite. Blood and a severed arm on the ground- it made her nauseous.    
Her assailants hadn’t survived the explosion- and much of the suite was burning.   
She’d managed to blow a 10 foot hole in the side of the building.    
First responders were guaranteed to be on the way. And likely more gang members.   
Her body ached in protest as she hauled the bag of weapons toward the stairwell, now that the elevator was out of the question.   
Seventeen flights of stairs, more and more people joining her along the way as the building was evacuated.   
  
She managed to break away from the crowd and go to her car, slipping past first responders, sirens, and panicked civilians..    
Guns in the trunk, she got in behind the wheel and caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror. She was covered in a fine layer of dust from the blast, and she managed to brush it off with her hands- and using the hoodie lying on the passenger seat as a rag.   
_ “Are you still with us, Kapitan?” _ _   
_ “Yeah,” she breathlessly replied, leaning back in her seat and finally feeling some relief. “I’m okay.” She hated every minute of it.   
But it was so fucking  _ thrilling _ .   
She felt high.   
_ “The weapons are the last step before the job,” _ he reminded.  _ “I will inform Mini Madrazo that we are a-go.” _ _   
_ “Hold up,” she replied and started her car. “I’ll let him know myself.”   
  
Outside the front gate of the mansion, Jorge was idling on his phone with a cigarette in hand- which he snuffed out on the sidewalk as Tommie approached.  
"Ms. Vercetti," he greeted.   
"Is he home?" She cut to the chase- she would apologize later when she wasn't so on edge.  
"He is," Jorge replied and watched her stride past him, down the steps and to the front door.  
She knocked hard with the side of her fist, and waited.   
Miguel opened the door moments later, noticeably surprised to see her. "Uh- hi--"  
He was silenced by Tommie moving brazenly closer and pulling him into a passionate kiss, her hands on either side of his face.   
Miguel was definitely caught off guard, and tensed for a fraction of a second while he processed what was happening- but he quickly decided to go along with it.   
She stepped past the threshold when his arms wrapped around her. The door fell partially shut- only to slam the rest of the way when he pushed her up against it.  
Tommie shuddered when her back hit the cold surface of the door and raised goosebumps down her arms. Her fingers involuntarily curled into his hair and pulled.   
Miguel exhaled a moan against her lips, and broke the kiss for a split second to take off his glasses- only to throw them carelessly to the floor when they resumed.   
"Now's a good time?" He asked between kisses.  
Tommie was lightheaded. Still running on adrenaline. Feeling so very alive again.    
And for once, in control.    
"No time like the present."


	7. Joven y Tonto (Young and Dumb)

“- This one I got for my parents,” she smiled and pointed out the black palm leaf tattooed on her left forearm.  
"What's this one?" He pointed out the dead tree on that shoulder.  
"That one didn't really have any meaning," she watched his thumb rub gentle circles over the palm leaf. "I got it because I was having a bad day and I think of getting tattoos as, like, meditation... And I thought it looked cool."  
Miguel found the divot in her forearm beside her elbow, under the leaf. "What happened _here?_ "  
"Oh- uh, that's one of the places I was shot. The bullet kinda took some of me with it so… now I have a fucked up arm. I got-" she swept her hair to the side. "- another one here." On her chest, where the scar tissue was tattooed over. “I had to do five months of physical therapy for the arm."  
Miguel's hand was warm on her skin. Comforting. "I didn’t even notice those."  
"Good,” she said with half a smile. “Paid a lot to cover them up.”  
He chuckled and noted the ornate knife on her other arm. “What’s that one?”  
Tommie pursed her lips, unsure if she should say. Even Patricia hadn’t noticed this one- because if she had, she would know the significance. “It’s a memorial piece.”  
“‘Cut here’,” he read the text beside the dotted line, along the blade’s centerline. “Who’s it for?”  
“An old boyfriend,” she admitted, holding her arm up to look over the piece. The dotted line and lilies behind the knife were the most recent additions.  
Trevor never got a funeral, a grave, or a headstone, so this was the best she could do for a memorial.  
Miguel sensed the somber tone, and his hold on her tightened. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”  
She didn’t want to dwell on it anymore.  
But she didn’t want to hide this like it was a dirty little secret either.  
It was like she had no choice but to share.  
“We were, um…” she sighed. “Pretty serious. He died a few years ago, and I didn’t know how to handle it. None of my friends or family really liked him all that much, so I couldn't really talk about it with anyone. He wasn’t a great person-- or even a _good_ person. He made me feel like garbage more often than not.”  
“But you definitely felt enough to get a tattoo for him,” Miguel noted.  
She hummed an affirmative, letting her arm fall across his middle. Staring off into space, glad she was in a position where he couldn’t see the distant look on her face. “It was complicated. We were so much like each other that we just _fit_ together. And, like- a while after he was gone, I got into a _new_ relationship with this guy who was totally normal. Like, upstanding-member-of-society type normal. And I just felt _nothing_ for him.”  
Trevor and Blake had many differences, but the biggest difference was that she was actually _in love_ with Trevor.  
Loving Trevor hurt more than _not_ loving Blake.  
“Bad guy phase, huh?” Miguel lightly asked. Softly caressing her hip.  
“Nah, it was more like I thought I _deserved_ to be with a bad person because _I_ was a bad person too.”  
Miguel turned his head toward her. “You’re not, though.”  
“I’m still coming to terms with that,” she agreed. “I used to really believe that I was, and that everything that ever went wrong was _my_ specific fault.”  
Miguel scoffed. “Kinda fuckin’ blows my mind that you’re _this_ cool and thought you deserved bullshit.”  
She shifted, turning onto her front and propping herself up on her elbows so she could look at him. “Oh, you think so?”  
“Yeah. I think so.”  
“So what _do_ I deserve, then?”  
She saw him steal a glance toward her lips, then back to her face. "Something better."  
He kissed her again, softly this time.  
She wanted this to be a nice, peaceful moment.  
But she thought she shared too much too soon.  
And even though he hadn’t tuned out or implied that he was uncomfortable, she knew she should’ve just stayed quiet on the matter.  
He told her she deserved better.  
The intimacy of it was terrifying now that she was coming back to reality.  
All she could feel now was nagging panic. She was perfectly still, but thought she might’ve been shaking.   
"I gotta get the weapons and stuff to Pavel," she finally said, and was the first to get out of his bed to gather her clothes. "He's probably wondering if I made it here at all."  
  
Miguel sat up and watched her while she started to put on her still dusty outfit. Arms folded on top of his knees.  
Now that the sex was all said and done, she seemed to be in a rush to get away.  
Because she was thinking about her ex? Or did she just get what she needed from him?  
He chose not to ask. "So what's the next step?"  
He didn’t even care at that moment. All he could really focus on was this _dejection_. Like any time he’d managed to get into anyone's, even his own father's, good graces, it was only for a few minutes. Then he didn’t exist again.  
He just thought he _always_ existed to Tommie. She never made him believe otherwise.  
Until now.  
"The next step is to ruin Strickler's day," she told him and pulled her shorts on. "We're ready. I just gotta wait for Pavel to say the word."  
She wouldn’t even look at him now. That stung.  
“Uh- good.” He blandly replied, suddenly unable to look at her either. If he did, he’d just be waiting for her to look back and acknowledge him like he wanted. “Let me know when you’re gonna start.”  
  
“Sure,” Tommie forced a light tone and put on her shirt.  
The ache in her chest was torture, especially when combined with the knowledge that there wasn’t any way for this to actually _be_ something. Even if she wanted it to.  
Miguel Madrazo was a rich socialite who lived the party lifestyle.  
Tommie Vercetti was a murdering, burnt out small-timer with a famous name who chose to live in obscurity.  
They simply didn’t add up.  
_They simply didn’t add up._ The thought played through her head on repeat while she stepped into her shoes. “Sorry to go so fast, I gotta drive out to Paleto as soon as possible. Gotta... make sure my plants don't die...”  
She thought getting on the road for a few hours would help this mood go away-- she was more panicked _now_ than she was in the office building while under fire.  
“Right,” he said, in an awkward tone. “No worries. I gotta handle some shit today too.” She knew he couldn’t wait to be alone. Hookups weren’t meant to drag on for this long- and the fact that they’d just _held_ each other afterward…  
She finally looked at him, and wished she hadn’t.  
The previous warmth in his expression had gone, replaced now with indifference.   
"I'll text you later," she said. Otherwise at a loss for what to say or do.   
Certain now that she’d fulfilled her purpose. Why else would he have been so accommodating up until now?  
  
“Talk to you then,” Miguel nodded, and watched her go. Listening to her footsteps grow quieter until she left the house.  
He let out a sigh and laid back in the center of the bed, the warmth of the spot beside him quickly fading away now that it was vacant.  
And he was alone.  
They spent all night together. Going back and forth between rest and-  
“Ugh. Goddamnit,” he muttered and grabbed his nearly dead phone off of the corner of the bed.  
Numbly opening and scrolling social media apps to find several unread messages.  
Nearly all of them from girls he’d previously been ‘talking to’.  
He’d left them on read when he started hanging around with Tommie. Sure, they were hot- but he had nothing to talk about with them. Not enough common ground to actually _want_ to spend any time on them. And they only came around because he had money.  
Oh...  
Her too.  
She only accepted his presence because he was paying her for a job.  
Miguel's jaw clenched when that realization hit, and resigned to replying to a previously ignored message.  
  
According to Pavel, getting to Cayo Perico by sub would take a full day.  
One day to get there, one day to rob Strickler, one day to get home.  
Tommie dropped the weapons on the sub and informed him of her plans- she would need a few more days to prepare herself to go.  
Starting with gathering her things from the penthouse.  
Now that the partnership was about to dissolve, Tommie knew she couldn’t take up space in Miguel's life anymore.  
She wouldn't be needed in Los Santos after this, and she would miss being there all over again.  
  
After shoving the last of her belongings in her backpack, she sat down on the couch in the living area and looked out at the rooftop terrace. A dozen or so people were out, sitting in the hot tubs, mingling, vaping, or having cocktails.  
She could picture Miguel, Patricia, Kaylee, and Jackie amongst them. They fit right into this high society lifestyle.  
Tommie didn't. She never bothered to spend her fortune on luxury- something she regretted.   
She'd been so obsessed with working on the Vanilla Unicorn to keep Trevor’s memory alive that she pretty much forgot to live for herself.  
Life was too short to not have fun-- and she was tired of not having any fun.   
Spending time with Miguel and Patricia- and even Kaylee- was the most she'd enjoyed anything in a long time; and it felt good to have people to talk to again. To be _welcomed_ somewhere.  
Her hand found her phone on the cushion at her side.   
And she went to Snapmatic to look at Miguel's profile.   
They hadn't spoken since yesterday morning when she left his house- and she didn’t like how they left it. She wanted to apologize for the sudden change in behavior--  
And, of course, the very first picture had been uploaded last night.  
A blurry selfie in the VIP section of The Music Locker. Some girl in the shot- her mouth on his neck.  
Tommie blacked out her screen and let out a huff.  
Of course this would happen.  
Of fucking course.  
  
“You guys ready to go yet?”  
_“Almost, Mr. Madrazo. I have taken liberty of hiring sharpshooter to help our friend clear her path.”_ _  
_ A safety measure for Tommie. Good.  
“Is he any good?” Miguel adjusted his stance, leaning against the railing in his backyard and staring out at the city’s glittering lights.  
_“Oh definitely,”_ Pavel replied. _“He is an old friend- former Spetsnaz. Now freelance.”_  
"How much is that gonna set us back?"   
_"Twenty five thousand,"_ Pavel replied. _"But we can afford him with cut from payday."  
_“Nono, I-” This almost felt like an overstep. “I’ll cover it. Don’t worry about it.”  
_“... Out of pocket?”_ He could hear the surprise in Pavel’s tone. _  
_ “Yeah, gotta make sure she brings back the files in one piece, right?”  
Pavel paused. _“Yes, of course. I will let her know that we are ready.”_ _  
_ “Alright, bitchin’,” Miguel tried to sound optimistic, but was dreading seeing her. No matter how much he _wanted_ to. “Can’t wait to put all this bullshit in the past. Catch you later, bro.” He ended the call before he could say more.  
Could the concern have been any more obvious? He could’ve just given her the twenty five grand to make up for her lost pay later.   
He stared at his phone’s home screen, illuminating it every thirty seconds when it automatically blacked out, debating if he should call her or something. It'd been three days since he last saw or spoke to her. And there had been at least ten times where he started to write out a text before just deleting the whole thing.  
He started to do it again- hoping this time he would have some perfect thing to say to re-open communications… But he didn't make it past the keyboard popping up on his screen before backing out again.  
_Jesus, Miguel, get your shit together_ …  
He'd hooked up before- of course he had. And he'd at least texted _some_ of those people afterward. It wasn't difficult to keep that kind of social circle with his level of money and influence. He didn't have to think about them after they parted ways because it wasn't like they were irreplaceable, even if he did kinda like them.  
Some of them were good friends. Some of them he'd gotten with more than once, like the girl from the other night-- which just wasn't as great of a distraction as he'd hoped for.   
But he'd done all of this before...  
So why was it so hard now? With _her?  
  
_He just wanted talking to her to be easy again.  
  
“How is progress?” His mom asked when he entered the house through the back door.  
She was leaned against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee, phone in hand, scrolling through news articles.  
“They’re about to move,” Miguel answered, eyes down on his screen. Starting another message and quickly deleting what he’d written.  
“That’s good,” Patricia said. “When is Tommie next coming over?”  
“You’ll see her when she drops off the files.”  
Patricia nodded. “You should invite her for dinner again.”  
Miguel’s thumbs idled over the screen, debating trying again. “Why? We’re supposed to be done after this.”  
She looked up from her own phone. “What do you mean?”  
Miguel blacked out his screen once and for all. “This was just business.” He moved toward the counter to pour himself some coffee as well. He could use a pick-me-up. “We could be friends, but-- it’s more _situational_ than-”  
Patricia swatted the back of his head.  
“Ow! Mom, what the fuck!”  
“ _No seas estúpido!_ ” Patricia scolded. “You like her, don’t you?”  
“So!?” She swatted his head again. “ _Ow!_ Quit it!”  
“You do!” Patricia insisted, moving to do it again and making him flinch. “You like her enough to invite her out, and she likes you enough to spend the time with you- do _not_ ruin that!”  
  
After spending the last couple of days in Paleto Bay to make sure the apartment would be secure, Tommie arrived back at the Kosatka.  
Pavel had informed her that he’d hired a sniper to clear her path when she moved for El Rubio’s safe, and all they were waiting for now was his arrival.  
When the sniper, Viktor Sokolov, arrived, he quietly retired to the berthing to rest and prepare for the job.  
Tommie set up in a rack on the opposite side of the living space. She’d shoved a pillow and sleeping bag into the narrow bed, threw her backpack on top, and closed the curtains. She’d never been out to sea before. Ship life was strange and cramped, and there was a complete lack of privacy.  
At least there would be only three of them on this trip.  
  
When she was situated, she decided to join Pavel on the bridge- where she found him irritably pressing buttons, checking screens, and muttering under his breath.  
“Wh- Why was there ever a screen _and_ a button!?” He vented. “Now the screen _is_ the button!? Or is the screen _not_ the button!? I don’t know! Maybe we find out when we are compacted like _tunafish!_ ”  
“What’s up, Pavel?” Tommie stifled a laugh while she moved for the planning screen.  
“I guess we are ready,” Pavel huffed and turned to join her. “We have a screen so let’s look at the fucking screen.” He turned to the control panels he’d been previously examining as if they could hear his scolding. “See? No buttons.” He turned back to Tommie. “So- what do we know?”  
Tommie touched the screen and the map of Cayo Perico loaded again.  
“We know El Rubio’s compound is on the south side of the island. We know the files are locked in a safe, which is in the basement, and we know the basement is accessible from an elevator, from El Rubio’s office, which is on the top floor of the main building.” He glanced past her. “Ah- Mr. Madrazo!”  
Tommie froze up for a millisecond, and spun to see Miguel coming down the ladder.  
“Privet, bro!” Miguel cheerfully greeted, expression dropping the moment he turned to see Tommie there. But he quickly recovered, trying to maintain the energy. “Look at this fuckin’ shit!” He turned his attention toward the control panels and screens to admire them. “Oh man- I mean- This is fuckin’ cool! This is some space age shit, man.”  
“Where we are going, we’ll be as far away from space as humanly possible,” Pavel told him.  
Miguel turned to him, stealing a glance at Tommie. “Now I kinda wish I was going with you guys. But, you put a ring around a general, right? First rule of war. I mean…” He focused on the panels of buttons again. “ _Look_ at this shit! It’s fuckin’... What do these do?” He picked out two red switches.  
Tommie exhaled sharply through her nose, arms crossing over her middle. He wasn’t even going to acknowledge her. Of course not.  
Pavel could sense now that Miguel was stalling, and flatly replied: “Floods the boat.”   
Miguel decided not to touch anything. “Okay.” He finally looked toward Tommie, “Now, just to be clear, all I give a shit about are the files-”  
“Of course,” she pointedly agreed.  
He looked like that stung. “-so, as long as I get those by any means necessary, you’ll get paid. Anything else you rob from that son of a bitch is just more money in your pocket. The more we hit El Rubio where it _fucking_ _hurts_ , the better, huh?” He walked onto the platform for the periscope.  
“Okay, Mr. Madrazo, we should set off shortly,” Pavel reminded.  
“Yup, no time to waste,” Tommie added, eager to get the whole thing over with.  
“Cool, yeah…” Miguel’s upbeat facade faded out. “Just wanted to say real quick, uh…” he stole another glance at her. “I didn’t have to come here today. I was having, like, a really good time. _But_ uh...” He tried to play it off like he was addressing both subordinates. “I wanted you to know that I’m a modern leader. I’ve done the hard work on myself and-” Rambling. Fucking rambling.  
And then he met Tommie’s gaze. “I’m gonna be there for you… ‘Cauuseee I respect you, and um...”  
Tommie’s expression softened, brows furrowed.  
Behind her, Pavel looked between the two.  
“I’m here for you _now_ , okay?” Miguel added.  
A half-second of silence.  
“So- go get em, team!” He awkwardly added. “Okay, I’m gonna head back to the club, see if I can pry my mother out of the DJ booth.” He headed for the ladder. “Uh- you can make the drop at my house. Good luck!” He climbed, and was soon out of sight.  
Pavel opened his mouth to speak-  
“ _Hold the fuck up_ -” Tommie followed behind Miguel, hurrying up the ladder to catch him before he was gone.  
“My god,” Pavel muttered, alone on the bridge. Now _very_ much in the loop. “They just keep getting younger and dumber.”  
  
Tommie closed the hatch after she stepped out into the daylight, and Miguel paused when he noticed she’d come out behind him. “So was that for _my_ benefit, or…?”  
“Like I said, modern leader,” he reiterated, trying to maintain a casual tone.  
Tommie couldn’t stand that right then. “Dude… The fuck are you doing…?”  
Miguel paused, and awkwardly put his hands in his pockets. “I just- wanted to see you off, I guess… I fucking like you, alright?”  
She spotted a purple mark at the base of his neck, just barely peeking out from the collar of his shirt. “Oh, is that why you’re posting pics of yourself getting that hickey?”  
“Hey, you’re the one who bailed all sudden, like you couldn’t care less about what I do. We were cool, we hooked up, and suddenly you can’t wait to get away?”  
“Because I was embarrassed I told you something _personal._ ”  
They went quiet for a long second, eyes downward.  
“Can we just talk about this when I get back?” She finally asked. “Please?”  
He exhaled a sigh, like he’d been holding his breath for days. “Yeah. Just make sure you _do_ get back.”  
“I will,” she set a hand on the hatch to go back inside. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter sucked lmao


	8. Escaparse De Cayo Perico (Escape from Cayo Perico)

"Are you ready, Kapitan?"  
"No. But I'm gonna get this over with."  
"That is the spirit," Pavel gave her an encouraging clap on the shoulder while she pulled on the sleeves of her wetsuit. "Maybe while you are down there, you will find some more of Mr. Rubio’s treasures to take back and sweeten our payday."  
This felt weird. Like she was going in much too vulnerable. No armor and minimal support. And a very finite amount of ammunition. If she was spotted, she would be the sole target for every loaded gun on the island.  
She had to bite her tongue to distract from the thought.  
She hauled the scuba tank onto her back- it was heavy. And Pavel had to help her properly secure it since she had no idea how to make it work.  
"I always wanted to go diving," she noted and tied her hair back into a tight bun. "Just to see the coral reefs. Never thought this was the way I'd be doing that."  
"Life has way of surprising you," Pavel turned a valve, and slapped the oxygen tank. "Maybe you see reefs when you swim to tunnel."  
Tommie pulled the hood of the diving suit over her head and got the mask portion into position.   
When her rig was good to go, Pavel handed her the duffel bag and she stepped into the moon pool.   
“Take this with you,” Pavel tossed her something.   
She caught it and turned it in her hand. It looked like two CO2 containers on a mouthpiece. “What is it?”   
“It is a rebreather. For if you end up in water again- you will not have time to put scuba equipment back on. And-” He hit the button to lower the moon pool’s floor. “Off we go!”   
  
He was right. The waters down here were full of colorful fish and coral growths. There were also rusted remains of metal debris on the sea floor.   
And mines. Everywhere.   
_“At last we begin,”_ Pavel’s voice came through on the radio. _“We have worked long and hard and it has led us here. Swimming though shark-filled tropical seas to a private island defended by meticulous mercenaries, all so we can steal sensitive documents from top secret vault. But there is good news: the parties are finished. And the hangover is here. Now be careful, there are patrol boats above your position. The drainage tunnel is dead ahead.”_ _  
_ The tunnel came into view, soon after she swam past the last mine closest to the land.   
_“GPS locked, I have your location,”_ Pavel added, just as she entered the tunnel and reached the iron bars. _“I will also access CCTV to see you when you are there.”_ _  
_ “Cool, I’m about to start cutting,” Tommie took the cutting torch out of the duffel bag and started it up- like Pavel had shown her.   
_“Alright- see you in maintenance room!”_ _  
_ _  
_ The torch cut through the bars like butter, and Tommie was able to open the whole thing with a push. The bars dropped into the tunnel, the sliced ends still glowing red from the heat before darkening. She moved through the tunnel, flashlight guiding her through the darkness and having to hope there wasn’t anything up ahead that would dice her into pieces.   
She soon reached the end of the line, and found a grate overhead that she was able to open manually. Just above the opening was a ladder, and she could see the surface of the water. Perfect.   
She climbed slowly, peeking out to make sure the area was clear- and saw that the maintenance room was empty. The whirring of machines pumping water through the compound was the only sound, and was loud enough that it would cover up any sound she made.   
She had to work quickly before any maintenance crew was scheduled to make any checks on the equipment.   
Tommie removed her scuba gear and shed out of the top half of the wetsuit to tie it around her waist. Her arm movement felt restricted with it on. Stupid thing didn’t fit right. She would leave all the diving equipment behind. Hopefully nobody found it before she was long gone.   
She took off the diving hood and it dropped to the ground with a wet slap before slicking back any loose hairs. She kicked off the flippers and took the pair of boots she’d brought with from the duffel bag, quickly pulling them on and double knotting the laces to ensure they wouldn’t come undone.   
She took the SMG from her bag and loaded out. Full magazine, one in the chamber, suppressor attached, safety off.   
She wore the strap of the bag across her chest to secure it, and decided it was time to move.   
  
She was met with a view of the ocean when she left the maintenance room. The walkway was clear, and she was able to proceed toward the stairs on her left.   
_“Are you in?”_ Pavel asked. _“You did not get sucked into a turbine?”_   
“I’m in,” Tommie confirmed in a hushed tone.   
_“Bah, I knew you would be fine. How likely is it I have_ two _operations end in this way?”_ _  
_ Jeez. “Is Viktor in place?” _  
_ _“Yes, he is ready. He’s got eyes on you- just point out his targets and he will take care of the rest. Now we look for the vault- maybe start in the central building.”_ _  
_ Tommie slowly moved up the stairs and spotted a guard up ahead, facing out at the ocean.   
She looked around to try to see where Mr. Sokolov was positioned, but couldn’t locate him. She pointed her entire arm toward the guard, and almost instantly, a bullet tore through his head, he collapsed in a heap, and his blood splattered the ground and the brick wall behind him..   
“Oh _fuck me-_ ” Tommie had to clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle her reaction.   
_“I did tell you he was good,”_ Pavel laughed. _“Keep moving, Kapitan. Last thing you need is being seen. Mr. Rubio’s personal bodyguards- they know their soldiers, and they will know you are not one of them, no matter what uniform you are wearing.”_ _  
_ “Noted.” Tommie kept her head on a swivel as she advanced, making sure there were no CCTV cameras in her path. “What do I do about the bodies? What if they’re found?”

 _“Eh-- that may be a problem. Do what you think is best.”_ _  
_“That’s all the advice you can offer?” She stepped over the dead man on the ground, making sure to avoid his blood. She didn’t want to leave a trail. She reached the corner of the small building and glanced around the corner. Another guard across the grass, under the covered patio of another building.  
She could get this one.  
Carefully stepping out from around the corner, she raised the sights of her weapon to eye-level, and was able to aim quickly enough to squeeze the trigger and fire two rounds. One struck the guards shoulder, the other went into the side of his head, and he dropped.  
This didn’t feel like the other times she’d had to kill someone. There was no sense of urgency, and she was in control of the situation.  
It was doable.  
She wasn’t sure if she was okay with that-  
 ** _“Hello. Hello, guards?”_** Tommie nearly shrieked when Strickler’s voice came on over the compound’s PA system. **_“Stop looking so fucking bored. This is a party island- and if anyone gives the Englishman any more cocaine, I’m going to have them shot.”_**   
… Dave was still here? It’d been like two or three weeks.   
Nevermind that-  
She made a break for where that guard her dropped, and decided this spot was much too likely to get foot traffic. They’d find the body quickly if she left it, so she grabbed him by his legs and dragged him along the ground until he was in a more secluded spot.   
Here she could see the center courtyard of the compound. At least a dozen or so guards were patrolling- but she could see only two in the direction she would go. Taking both of them out at once would be tricky, she would need Mr. Sokolov’s help.

But first she would have to get over there.   
She peeked around the corner of the walkway, and immediately drew back.  
Patrolling the center courtyard, a soldier dressed out in heavy ballistic armor, carrying a minigun.  
 _“Why are you staying still, Kapitan? Is something wrong?”_  
“Look at the CCTV near me.”  
Silence for a few seconds as Pavel moved from watching her GPS blip to see the camera feed. _“Oh.”_  
“Did he see me?”  
 _“I don’t know yet- he is walking in your direction.”_ _  
_Tommie felt her stomach drop. Gripping her gun so tightly that she was certain she was trembling. Her eyes closed, and she tuned in to the sound of heavily armored footsteps approaching.  
 _“He is walking away!”_ Pavel urgently said, making her eyes pop open. _“Quick- move behind him, stay low, do not engage.”_ _  
_“Got it,” she whispered, peering around the corner again and seeing the gunner walking away. None the wiser. She kept a safe distance behind him, staying ducked down on the lower walkway as she hurried along to the stairs.  
She went up slowly, craning her neck to look over the hedges when she neared the top. _  
_“¿Viste a Esteban? Tiene las llaves.”  
“Si, recién estuve hablando con él.”  
Alright.   
Two guards.  
Again, uncertain of where Mr. Sokolov was, she motioned toward the two guards while aiming.   
One was suddenly shot down; and before the other could react, Tommie put him down as well. She gave Sokolov a high thumbs up as a thank you, and proceeded slowly. She would have to leave these bodies where they were and hope for the best.   
The central building came into view. On her other side, the main gate of the compound.   
She could hear low growls, and remembered the panther’s cage was somewhere close by this area.  
She did _not_ want to end up inside the cage with it.  
Tommie shook the thought off, and ducked to be hidden by the shrubs, having caught a glance at the gunner roving this area now.   
Okay, so he had a route. She just had to wait for him to go away.   
She looked through a scant area in the hedge, watching him disappear.  
She hurried down the nearby set of stairs, and made a break for the center building.   
Ending up in a narrow spot between, where she saw a gate that led to an alternative route to the main entrance.   
El Rubio’s office was the top floor, and it was the only known access point to the vault.  
The way up the stairs was clear, and Tommie rushed up the stairs until she was at the top- and entered Strickler’s office.  
Nothing had changed since she and Pavel scoped it out.  
“I made it to the office,” she told him.  
 _“Good! Take a look around, there may be things worth taking.”_  
She noted a set of photos and curios on the wall beside his desk, and saw a seam in the wallpaper. “I think there’s a safe in here,” she pushed the wall, and it clicked open to reveal cash, a bottle of pills, and a fancy vintage gold pistol.  
She decided to take all three, shoving them into the duffel bag.  
 _“Good thinking, always check the safe,”_ Pavel said. _“I can also see a painting on the wall behind you, it may be worth something.”_ _  
_Tommie moved for the painting next. “I have no idea how to take this...”  
 _“Ah- you take a knife and cut around the frame.”_ _  
_“Smart,” she took her switchblade out of the side pocket of the bag, and carefully sliced around the edges of the painting to roll it up and put it in her bag when she was done. “Alright,” she took the print cloner out of the bag next. “Let’s get into the fucking vault.”  
 _“Okay, the fingerprint scanner. Use it like I showed you.”_  
Tommie got to work, and watched the scanner automatically match print fragments.   
It matched four separate prints, before a success message popped up on the screen and the elevator doors opened.  
 _“Is that it? Bravo! Now, into the elevator, we are so close!”_ _  
_“Right?” She asked and entered, pressing the button to go to the basement. “This is almost too easy.” The doors closed. “Strickler’s security isn’t that bad- we could probably get away with doing this _twice_.”  
 _“Maybe more than that! Maybe we make this into a weekly ritual!”_ Pavel laughed at the idea.  
  
The elevator doors opened in the basement, and Tommie went straight for the padlock on the iron bars.  
“Here we fuckin’ _go_ ,” she smirked, taking the cutting tool out of the bag and getting to work on the lock- and it cut through like butter.   
She was inside in seconds, heading straight for the safe and entering the combination she’d stolen.  
 _“Now let us just hope he has not changed the combination,”_ Pavel said.  
“Think it’ll set off an alarm if he did?” Tommie asked as she turned the dial.  
 _“We will find out!”_  
The tumblers inside the lock turned, and Tommie was able to open up the safe. “Bitchin’,” she grabbed the file folder and slipped it into a plastic protector she brought along. She needed to keep it dry. “I got the files.”  
 _“Good! Now, time to make your exit. But if you see anything you like on the way out, don’t be shy, help yourself!”_  
She closed the safe door and turned to leave-- but stopped when she noticed the light glimmer off something in a display case.  
"Hello…"  
Inside the case, a jewel encrusted panther statue. Gold, sapphires, and what looked like lapis lazuli.  
 _"What is that?"  
_ "A statue. Strickler’s definitely a cat person," Tommie replied, looking for a way to open the display. "This thing's _really_ gaudy, but it's definitely worth something. How do I get this open?"  
 _"You might not even be able to shoot it open."  
_ She fished the cutting torch out of the bag. "Think this'll work?"  
 _"It is worth a shot?"  
_ She turned on the torch, and brought it to the glass, trying to angle the heat away from the item inside. "Worst case, we got what we came for and nobody knows I'm here yet."  
  
It took a few minutes, but she was able to cut a large enough hole to pull the statue through. It was weighty- definitely solid gold. This would fetch a _very_ pretty penny.   
“Miguel’s gonna lose his _shit_ when he sees this thing.” Of all the all fucking times to think of him....  
Pavel opted not to say anything about it. _"Do not linger down there._ _We are not out of panther’s cage just yet."  
_ “So to speak,” she muttered and moved on back toward the elevator.   
The doors opened as soon as she pressed the button, and she stepped inside. She zipped the duffel bag ¾ shut as she ascended.  
When the doors opened again, the office was still empty.  
 _“Do you have your exit route?”_ _  
_“I’m gonna go out the front door,” Tommie said. “Where are you now?”  
 _“I am still near the drainage pipe- but I can move to meet you.”_ _  
_“I’m on my way out.” She came to the office’s window and pulled the curtain aside just enough to look outside. No guards had come to patrol near the office yet, but that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. She could see one of them heading for the stairs leading up to the office. “Wish me luck.”  
She readied up, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder- it was heavier now with the statue, but she wasn’t going to let something so valuable get away just because it was a little heavy.  
When she stepped out of the office, she kept close to the wall outside the door.   
She could hear footsteps approaching, and idle whistling.   
Mr. Sokolov was guaranteed not to have a shot here. With this architecture, it was practically a cage.  
Tommie was aware that she was holding her breath, listening carefully to the distance of footfalls decreasing with each step. _  
_He came up to the top of the stairs and turned to face her- and she put a bullet through his temple before he could react to her. His body fell over, and his blood started to pool around his head-- and started to drip down the steps.  
That would be noticeable soon.  
She quietly hurried down the stairs, keeping away from the balcony’s ledge to not be seen.   
She reached ground level, and started toward the front gate-- until she spotted the ballistic armor clad soldier.   
She retreated backward. “I need another way out.”  
 _“There should be a gate beside you?”_  
“I don’t have the keys. Shooting it is gonna make noise.”  
 _“Uh-- go west. You can go around panther cage. I do not see any guards on CCTV.”_ _  
_Tommie moved in that direction, head on a swivel, weapon at the ready.  
The panther soon came into sight. Standing up from its resting spot when it saw her. It watched her attentively, at the ready to be fed-- whether she would provide food or _be_ food.  
“Oh ‘ello, love!”  
“What the fuck-” She spun and saw a familiar face behind the bars of the other cage. “ _Dave!?_ ”  
“ _The_ one and only,” he replied in his usual jolly tone, coming up to the bars. “Been a long day. How’s the job?”  
“ _Dave?_ ” Tommie asked. “I haven’t seen you in _weeks._ Why are you in a cage?”  
“I did a little too much of the fun stuff,” Dave admitted, stepping away from the iron bars to pace, much like the panther was doing now. “The blond man put me in here for a detox.”   
She shook her head. “Should’ve flown back _with me_ , man. Hang on, I’ll-”  
Tommie was interrupted by an arm wrapping tightly around her throat and restricting her from breathing. Mind blanking in a state of panic, the SMG dropped out of her hand and she tried to wrench the guard’s arm from around her throat. She couldn’t even reach for her knife. It was inside the bag, and the bag was wedged between her back and her assailant.  
She couldn’t get a hold on his arm, and she was growing lightheaded. Blackness at the edges of her vision, and she was acutely aware of Dave panicking at the sight. Making too much noise.  
She remembered her surroundings.  
And shoved backward until her attacker’s back was shoved up against the bars of the panther’s cage- where the big cat seized the opportunity to eat. It was able to reach a large paw through the bars to lock its claws into the guard’s shoulder and anchor him in place while its teeth sunk into him.  
He screamed, and was forced to let go of Tommie. She fell forward onto her knees, hands at her throat while she gasped for air. A spurt of hot liquid hit the back of her arm, and she spun to see the panther trying to hold the guard close through the bars while his body went limp. Blood having hit her.  
“ _Oh-- Oh god in heaven-!”_ Dave gasped, nauseated by the sight.   
A siren began to reverberate throughout the compound.  
“ _Shit_ ,” she muttered.  
 ** _“Do I hear a fucking alarm!?”_** Strickler’s voice echoed over the PA. **_“I want a report in two minutes! I’m going to the panic room. Every single one of you, find out what it is and do your jobs, now!”_**  
Tommie overheard voices approaching, shouting at each other that they heard something near the panther’s cage.   
She hurried back to her feet and picked up her gun. She looked at the cage Dave was in, knowing she wouldn’t have time to let him out.  
“Go, go- I didn’t see you if they ask,” he urged.  
“What about you!?”  
“He’ll let me out for good behavior eventually!”  
“Fuck-” she muttered, then started running around his cage for the exit. “Don’t get killed!”   
**_“Lock everything down. We have a thief on the island, no one leaves until they’re dead.”_**  
 _"What the fuck just happened?"_ Pavel asked in an accusatory tone.   
"The fucking _panther_ ," Tommie breathlessly replied, hurrying for the main gate. "Viktor's still got eyes on me?"  
 _"Yes-"  
_ "Good!" She came around the corner of the animal enclosures, and spotted two guards on patrol.  
Short on time, she opened fire on the one closest to her- leaving bullet holes in Strickler’s vintage Weevil.  
The guard further away took aim at her- but Sokolov quickly put him down and cleared her way.   
She bolted for the gate and tried to force it open with her body weight.   
It only budged about an inch.  
"C’mon…" She jammed her hip and shoulder against it again. "C’mon!" She stepped back and kicked it in frustration- then noticed a button beside the doors.   
She slammed it, and the gates opened.   
She ran out. Path, so far, clear.   
"What's the quickest way to you?" She asked.   
_"Er- straight ahead,"_ Pavel answered. _"Over the cliff."  
_ "Get there, I'm on my way," she didn't stop moving, hearing the sound of a patrol car coming toward the gate to assist the soldiers inside with their search.   
She reached the field, and dove into cover in the tall grass. Keeping still and silent, watching the two armed men get out of the vehicle and surveil the area.   
They must’ve already figured that she'd gotten out. _  
_**_“Watch your step out there, my thieving little friend,"_** Strickler warned over the PA, apparently able to broadcast all over the island. **_"One trip, one stumble, and my men will be on top of you. Tick tock, Tick tock. It’s just a matter of time.”  
_** He was right about that much. She needed to go.  
 _"I am almost directly in front of you, Kapitan,"_ Pavel said _. "All you need do is get here and not drown."  
_ She kept on the ground, slinging the bag onto the ground at her side and finding the rebreather inside. Pavel was right to make her bring it. "That I can do."  
She closed the bag up completely, and rolled it onto her back so she could crawl through the grass.   
_"It looks like Mr. Rubio is getting in his attack helicopter!"  
_ She decided she was far enough away when she cleared a tree, and got up to run. She could hear the chopper's blades, and she knew she would be spotted in a matter of seconds.  
 ** _"Found you, you fucking rat!"_** The helicopter's bullhorn blared, and the aircraft quickly headed in her direction. **_"This is where you fucking die!"  
_** Tommie shrieked when bullets began to hail from the helicopter, striking the ground all around her. She dared not stop. No matter how much her lungs were burning, her body would not allow her to slow.   
She reached the end of the ground, and jumped.   
  
She sucked in a deep breath on the way down, and hit the water after a twenty foot drop.  
Bullets striking around her.   
She bit the mouthpiece of the rebreather and let the weight of her bag pull her away from the surface of the ocean.  
A sudden sharp pain in her thigh, and she was aware that a bullet had scraped her. A close call, but she would be okay.   
Her eyes stung in the saltwater, but she could see the Kosatka close by. She swam for it, and soon the bullets were no longer near her because she was too deep to see.   
She reached the scuttle on top of the conning tower, and quickly let herself in.   
The water drained when she closed herself in. Finally safe.   
She climbed down the latter until she reached the bridge, soaking wet and dripping on the floor.   
Pavel at the helm, driving the sub away from the shore- to the designated rendezvous point where they would get Mr. Sokolov.   
"How was it, Kapitan?" He asked, as if this were as uneventful as a trip to the bank.   
Tommie removed her rebreather and came over to the planning screen in the center of the bridge. She emptied the bag of her bounty.   
The pills, the cash, Strickler's golden gun, gold panther, and the Madrazo files. An impressive haul for only having one target.  
She drew a deep breath, disregarding the sting of saltwater on her cut leg. Feeling like she ran a marathon and came in first place. And simultaneously, enjoying knowing that El Rubio, the big bad blond man, lost this game to a _first timer_. "Not gonna lie to you... That was _f_ _un!_ "


	9. Recuerdos Agridulces (Bittersweet Memories)

The cut wasn't deep, but it would leave a pretty ugly scar.   
Tommie was at least relieved to know none of her tattoos were ruined this time, given that she didn't have any on her legs. Maybe this would serve as motivation to get one now.   
She thought about what she might want while she secured the wound shut with a couple of butterfly sutures. Sitting at the galley table with an open medkit.  
She held a gauze pad against the sutured cut to pause and take a drink from the soda can in front of her.  
Pavel was well at work preparing food, singing something to himself in Russian.   
Sokolov was seated across the table from Tommie, performing some maintenance on his rifle. Cleaning every piece as he went.  
Tommie resumed her work, taking a second gauze pad to layer over the first, then wrapping them in place with surgical tape.  
She carefully pulled the leg of her sweatpants down over the bandaging and winced. Every muscle in her body sore from tension.  
She saw Sokolov glance up at her out of the corner of her eye, then he said something to Pavel she couldn't understand. He didn't speak a word of English.  
"Translate?" She asked.   
Pavel didn't look up from the pot he was stirring. She had no idea what he was preparing but it smelled good. "He said you handled yourself better than expected."  
"Oh," she looked at the sniper. "Thank you."  
Sokolov acknowledged her with a thin, polite smile.  
She was actually satisfied with her performance as well. She hadn't taken pride in her work since she was managing the Unicorn. And this was more engaging-- and frankly, more enjoyable.  
Utter chaos, but a good time nonetheless.  
Now she understood why Trevor chased thrills to feel something.  
And she was just as bad.  
Walking away from a near-death experience felt like the high she remembered from doing rails of cocaine. And frankly, the high was a real turn-on. Too bad she had to let the rush go to waste this time.  
That thought reminded her that she’d be seeing Miguel in the morning when they returned to Los Santos. Though it likely would be a tense, awkward conversation rather than another one-night-stand.  
“And now we celebrate!” Pavel brought over trays of food stacked on top of each other, setting them out for each of them.  
Tommie shook the negative thoughts away when she eyed the food placed in front of her. Not sure what it was. But it didn’t matter with how hungry she was. “Thanks for cooking, Pav.”  
“It is my pleasure, Kapitan!” He had a green glass bottle sticking out of the cargo pocket on his pants, and he set it on the table before going to fetch some cups. “It is custom everywhere to have victory meal, is it not?”  
“What is _this?_ ” She picked up the bottle and turned it in her hand, trying to find a label.  
“Navy wine,” he replied and set plastic cups on the table for them to pour themselves.  
She opened the bottle and smelled the contents, and winced at the noticeable strength of the alcohol inside. “... Dude, this better not have been made in a toilet.”  
  
The three went their separate ways after some time.  
Sokolov and Pavel retired to the bridge to chat on the ride back to Los Santos.  
Tommie, exhausted, went to the berthing to rest.  
The night passed her by, and she was laid up in her curtained sleeping compartment, staring at the metal overhead just thinking of what to say when she would finally have that postponed conversation with Miguel.  
 _I like you too but I don’t know if it’s safe for trash like me to like anyone._ _  
__I like you too but I have too much baggage._ _  
__I like you too but I ruin everything._ _  
__I like you too but-_ _  
_Why did there always have to be a ‘but’?  
“Every time,” she muttered. “Every fucking time.”

She couldn’t fall asleep. Stuck on every stupid fucking ‘but’ she could think of.  
Trying to ignore heart palpitations when she imagined seeing him, being near him.  
She just wanted things to be simple, like they were before. If they ever were. Looking back, she knew she’d felt attraction from the start. He was cute, fun, kinda dumb, but in a sweet kind of way... And he didn’t seem to give a shit that she had a whole different vibe from him and his crowd.  
He and Patricia just accepted her right off the bat. Even Jackie had been nice, and Kaylee hadn’t given her reason to feel unwelcome when they hung out.  
They didn’t know and didn’t ask about life before Paleto. It didn’t matter to them given the alleged reputation of Mr. Madrazo. Something _she_ didn’t know or ask about.  
  
She pulled up to his house in Vinewood Hills late that same night-- now very early in the morning, parking on the street and getting out with the duffel bag over her shoulder. A member of the Madrazos’ gang was standing watch outside the gate, and eyed her as she approached.  
“Hold it right there,” he said.  
“I’m here on invite,” Tommie told him, stopping as ordered.  
He took her picture with his phone, then he pushed open the gate and motioned for her to enter. “You’re good to go.”  
She nodded her thanks and went inside the premises, spotting Jorge when she neared the end of the driveway.  
“Hey, you made it,” he greeted, walking with her toward the entrance to the back yard. “Hope everything went according to plan?”  
“All that and more,” Tommie replied. “Got one hell of a bounty.”  
“Glad to hear it,” he replied. “Mr. Madrazo only got back from the club a few hours ago. I probably set a new record for overtime.” They reached an ivy-lined archway to the backyard, and he allowed her inside first. “Ladies first.”  
About a dozen strangers scattered around the backyard, half of them near the fire pit.  
Among them, Miguel and Patricia.  
“Look who’s here,” Miguel got up from his seat as soon as Tommie came into view, moving to come greet her. “The perfect end to a party. How’d it go?”  
“It was good-”  
“Hey man, it’s been _emotional_ ,” a drunk older man approached Miguel, allowing him and Tommie to pass him up while he was on his way out of the afterparty.  
One of the girls near the fire pit addressed him. “Why don’t you sit down and stop making a fool of yourself, Evan?”  
Tommie followed Miguel away from the group of partygoers, near where a beautiful woman with a glass of wine was sitting alone.  
“Hey Miguel,” she greeted in a _very_ familiar tone.  
“I don’t even know who she is,” he told Tommie, a little too loudly.  
Tommie rolled her eyes. “Sure you don’t.”  
“We spent a week together in Tulum, _asshole_ ,” the woman retorted, getting up and choosing to go. Voicing an irate, spurned “ _The fuck?_ ” as she left.  
Miguel ignored her, finding a vacant spot for them to talk and sitting down.  
“So a whole _week_ , huh?” Tommie asked, setting the duffel bag on the ground and taking a seat near him.  
“Swear to God, it’s not that deep,” Miguel said in his defense. “So… Success?”  
Tommie hummed, and nudged the bag closer toward him with her foot. “You tell me.”  
“Thank fuck,” he bent over and rifled through the bag. “Lotta shit in here… Must’ve been a good time.”  
“Oh, it was,” she nodded. “Strickler was _pissed_ to see me get away. Not to mention I _totally_ fed one of his guys to his panther. You should’ve seen it.”  
“Fuck yeah, I _knew_ you were the right person to pick. And you _doubted_ that.” He pulled out the file, still in its plastic protector. “Excellent, fuckin’ _wait_ ‘til my dad hears about this!”  
“Happy for you,” Tommie smiled and watched him get up to make the call.  
And she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.  
“Hey! Hey, Dad,” she listened to him greet his father when the call was answered. Starting out optimistic. “Uh- yeah, no, this’ll be quick. Just wanted to let you know that that Strickler thing-- the files? Yeah, I- I did it… No, no, no, they’re in my hand. Took care of it, it’s done-”  
She noted his tone. Like he was desperate to keep his father’s attention by cutting to the point.  
Sure, her relationship with her own father had been strained when he was alive… But they never talked like this. They were actually pretty frank with each other. It was how they ended up getting to bond a little bit.  
But this?  
Painful to watch. And it was getting worse by the second.  
“Yes,” Miguel continued his conversation. “So, uh, you know what? I was thinking that maybe you and I could sit down again and talk about that crypto deal? Or- Or that condo project I mentioned, remember? … Dad?”  
Oh.  
 _Ohh…_  
Yeah, this was difficult to watch.  
She could see his body language change over the following seconds. Tense. Silent.  
He turned back toward her, trying to brush it off like it meant nothing. “The service here is just fucking-- third world, y’know?”  
“Right...” Tommie nodded. She wouldn’t pry. At least not now.  
He sat down next to her and sighed again.  
She wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but she wasn’t sure if she should. Especially with how they were still pending an awkward conversation of their own.  
“So, uh, where were we?” He asked. “Yes- payment.”  
“We can worry about that later if you want,” she told him. “Just- be hype that we got it done. We did good. Both of us.”  
“Right,” he agreed. And sighed again, slouched over. Files in hand. “I don’t even know if I wanna look at these.”  
“That’s up to you,” Tommie nodded, and sat comfortably back to enjoy the view of the beautiful early dawn sky while he opened up the files.  
She’d been awake all night thinking about this moment. Being so stressed out about just laying eyes on Miguel Madrazo again.  
And now that she was here?  
Perfect calm. Like this was right where she needed to be.  
“Oh… no, no, no, no, no… Eugh. _Shit. Fuck!_ ”  
“Hm?” Tommie snapped out of her moment of solace and reflexively looked at the files in his hand. “What the fuck- _Trevor!? Oh! No!!_ ” She reeled away from the photo in his hand, sick to her stomach in an instant when she saw none other than Trevor Philips, her own ex-boyfriend, with Patricia. Naked. Both of them.  
She knew he was obsessed with Patricia, but she never in a million years had assumed it was in a sexual context. She never asked him for that detail and realized now that she never _wanted_ to for this exact reason.  
“Who the fuck is Trevor!?” Miguel had to know.  
“ _That’s my ex!”_ She suddenly wanted to drain a bottle of the strongest liquor available to try to wipe this moment from her memory.  
That made it all the more horrible for Miguel. “Are you fucking _serious!?_ ” He abruptly stood up and dropped the pictures into the fire pit nearest to them. “He’s old enough to be your _dad_ .”  
“Don’t even _start_ with me on that!” She stood up after him, standing by with no objections as he burned the pictures. Grimacing each time she saw a new explicit snapshot drop into the flames.  
As nauseating as it was- it wasn’t because of the nature of the pictures. And it wasn’t even because it was of him and Patricia together.  
It was because seeing new, previously unseen pictures of him was fresh imagery that she both hated and loved to see. That wound threatened to open again. And she found herself staring at his face before it was burned away in each picture. The way he looked at Patricia was the same way he looked at _her_ .  
  
Like he loved them the same after all.  
  
And even though it hurt, it wasn’t the same kind of hurt that would linger for weeks afterward. Only bittersweet in the moment.  
A sign of healing, she thought.  
“Darling? What is it?” Patricia’s voice came from behind them. Curious about why her son and his friend were staring so intensely at the fire pit.  
“Nothing now,” Miguel replied, dropping the rest of the ‘files’ into the fire. “It’s _over._ ”  
He walked off, needing a drink.  
Tommie lingered behind, watching the very last picture turn to ash.  
Her last look at Trevor Philips for the foreseeable future.  
Gone just as quickly as it appeared. And she missed it when it was gone.  
“I nearly died for _this?_ ” She muttered under her breath, thinking about how fucked the irony of it all was. “Ugh... Fuck.”  
“Thank you for your help,” Patricia told her, none the wiser. “This means a lot.”  
“Anything for a friend,” Tommie replied, tired, but genuine.  
Patricia smiled and pulled her along with a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, the least we can do is offer you some champagne.”  
“Thanks,” Tommie managed a small smile. “I think I could definitely use some.”  
“Mmhm,” Patricia agreed. “And then I think I need to sleep for a week.”  
“You and me both, Mrs. M.”  
“Please, you can just call me Patricia.”  
  
When the sun was up and the after party was over, Patricia retired to bed with the intention of sleeping the day away.  
Tommie and Miguel remained awake, standing near the property line, having watched the sun finish rising over the Los Santos skyline.  
“You still wanna talk about our situation?” He started.  
“Maybe. You still like me?”  
“ _Maybe_ .” He nudged her foot with his. “I um… I haven’t hooked up with anyone. Not since-- y’know. And that was a stupid thing to do. I didn’t really even _wanna_ do it, I was upset and-”  
“I’m not mad about it anymore,” she replied, watching a plane fly over downtown in the distance. “I’m not your girlfriend so… I figured I don’t really have the right to be mad about what you do.”  
He leaned against the wrought iron railing. “I just don’t want you to think it was some sign that I didn’t give a shit about you or something. I guess I was trying to _make_ myself not give a shit.”  
“I get that.”  
“But like-” He continued nonetheless, turning toward her. “It wasn’t even what I needed it to be. I thought it’d help me get over that morning. But it didn’t. It just kinda felt worse afterward. A lot worse.”  
And she did too. She shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions the way she had. Miguel had been cool to her from the start- why did she assume that would suddenly change?  
She leaned against the railing as well. “... I got really used to us talking most days. And when we weren’t talking during that time, it felt really bad. I thought distance would help but it was worse.”  
“Felt bad for me too. I kinda really like being around you even if you don’t wanna do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. You get me, and that’s not something a lot of people do… I feel like you _see_ me.”  
“I feel like you see me too,” she replied softly. “And I’m not gonna say no to the boyfriend-girlfriend idea… I just have to say ‘not yet’. And it’s not because I don’t want to _try_ , it’s because I’m still not okay. I’m still sad. I’m still _angry_ . I’m still _afraid_ that all this fucking damage is just gonna ruin everything going forward.”  
“Having lived through shit doesn’t ‘ _ruin’_ anything,” Miguel disagreed. “You’re still you, right? I met you after whatever happened and I still like you, remember?"  
They looked at each other for a long moment. Tommie felt a strong appreciation for him in that moment, and it was clearly visible in her gaze.  
“So... Can I at least kiss you now?” He asked. “Or not yet?”  
She grinned at that, almost sick with the butterflies in her stomach. Nobody had ever _asked_ before; and there was something so endearing about knowing what he was thinking about in that moment. “No time like the present, right?”  
They met in the middle, softly allowing their lips to touch. Stomachs mutually in knots.   
They pulled apart to admire each other, and Tommie turned away to yawn.   
"Sorry, I don't think I’ve slept since I last saw you,” she said. With the whole affair said and done, her body was starting to relax. And was reminding her that she was exhausted. She couldn’t sleep before invading Cayo Perico, and then the way home was restless in anticipation for this. And it was nowhere near as scary as she thought it’d be.  
Miguel yawned after her and let out a chuckle. “Fucking contageous… You can sleep here. If you want. If you’re too tired to drive back to the casino. We have a guest room, or-”  
“Miguel, you don’t have to convince me,” she laughed. “I’d love to stay over again.”  
  
They ran upstairs with renewed energy, trying to keep quiet along the way to not wake Patricia.  
When they reached his room, Tommie closed the door, and barely had time to turn around before Miguel backed her against it and kissed her again.  
She giggled against his lips. “Is it always gonna go this way?”  
“Guess we’ll find out.” He squeezed her ass and planted a kiss on her neck. Then another, and another, spurred on by Tommie’s quiet, appreciative moans as well as how she gripped fistfuls of material on the back of his shirt. Keeping him close, keeping their bodies pressed together against the door.   
He suddenly looped his arms just under her butt and lifted her off of her feet to bring her over to the bed.  
She dropped onto the mattress with a delighted laugh, and Miguel got into the bed after her. Not having expected her to instantly mount him and bring him into another kiss.   
"What happened to being tired?" He asked, hands on her hips to keep her in place despite his comment.  
"Hey, _you_ started this," she reminded with a smirk before she started on the buttons of his shirt.  
“Guess I should finish it, then.” He rolled her, ending up on top, pulling back to pull the sleeves of his shirt off and let it drop- while she took off her own to pick up the pace.  
The following few minutes were a blur of kissing and touching in between clothes coming off. Until they got to her pants, and her bandages were bared. He hadn’t noticed until he ran his hand up her thigh.  
“You got hurt?” He asked.  
“Just a scratch,” she replied. “Don’t worry about it.”  
“Psh- you’re so fuckin’ cool, Tommie.”  
“Shut up!” She let out a giggle and briefly lifted her hips off the bed while he pulled off her panties.  
They kissed again, letting out a simultaneous moan when he pushed inside of her.  
Tangled in each other’s arms. Moving together, eyes meeting and not daring to look away.  
A hard, testing thrust; and Tommie sucked in a gasp, head involuntarily throwing back against the sheets. Miguel’s lips against her neck. Her nails ran down his back, urging him on.  
  
 **_  
September 12th, 2019_ ** **_  
_** **_  
_** “G’morning, Ms. Rosa.”  
“Morning, Ms. Dottie.”  
“The usual to drink?”  
‘Rosa’ nodded. “You already know.”  
The daily ritual.  
Breakfast at the Mojito Inn, where she sat for hours at a booth near the window and scrolled swiped aimlessly at her phone drinking pot after pot of coffee.  
Checking the news from Los Santos in addition to the local channels. Robberies caught her interest every time, and she scanned the details of those articles just trying to find any key words that would imply they were committed by someone she used to know.  
Knee anxiously bouncing under the table by the time Dottie returned with her first cup of coffee.  
“Nervous?”  
She looked up from her screen when Dottie’s unexpected inquiry broke her from her flow. “Hm?”  
“You’re shaking the table, sweetie.”  
‘Rosa’ realized her knee was bouncing, and she forced it to stop. “Sorry. Just reading.” She set her phone on the dull, scratched laminate surface of the table.  
Dottie could read the bold headline from the tableside. The middle aged server shook her head. “Reading the news? You should avoid it if it makes you so anxious.”  
“I should,” ‘Rosa’ agreed. “I just feel like I need to keep up with everything, y’know?” She folded her hands between her knees to keep from immediately picking the phone up again. The chill from the rain outside could be felt through the window. And Mojito’s manager always cranked the AC to encourage more coffee sales in the mornings. A dirty trick but it worked well enough.  
“My niece is like that,” Dottie noted. “And she’s just burnt out all the time. Careful. Anyway- you eating today?”  
“Yeah, uh-” ‘Rosa’ paused, “Can I actually see a menu?”  
Dottie blinked. “Something new? What’s the occasion?”  
Today was her birthday. “Nothin’ special. Just felt like something else today.”  
“Oh, feeling _adventurous_ .” Dottie smiled. “I’ll be back in a second with a menu.”  
‘Rosa’ offered a polite, albeit forced smile just before Dottie left her side. She didn’t much feel like smiling. "Thanks."  
  
Her first birthday as Rosa De Los Santos.  
And the first birthday since Tommie Vercetti was labeled as ‘deceased’ about forty eight hours _before_ being reported as ‘missing’. No body, no remains, no signs of foul play anywhere. Only her Fugitive, her phone, and her driver’s license were left abandoned on the side of the road in Chumash.  
There was a whole conspiracy around it on Weazel News. Her photo was all over the media for weeks before the media cycle drowned it out. She was suddenly somewhat of an urban legend because of her mysterious disappearance.  
She recalled seeing news channels harassing the staff of the Vanilla Unicorn asking where she was. Her former business partner, Avalon Charles, was the only person who knew just how and why Tommie Vercetti had disappeared, but told media outlets that she had expected Tommie to come to work like any other day.  
Lita, Tracey, Amanda, Jimmy, and even Blake had posted online about her missing status and added their contact information for anyone who may have seen her.  
Now, the only one still posting was Lita. Her social media profiles were left public so the missing persons photos were visible to anyone who would look at them, posted as recently as July this year.  
Today, a check on that profile was a lone picture of Tommie and Lita from her twenty-fifth birthday, one year ago today. Two months before she went missing.  
She read the caption.  
‘ _I don’t know where you are, or when I’ll see you again, but I know that you’ll always be my baby and I'll always miss you. I’ll never stop looking for you. Happy birthday, Mija. Love you always.”  
_ ‘Rosa’s biscuits and gravy suddenly lost its taste. What was in her mouth may as well have been rubber; and she resentfully swallowed it and decided she’d had enough after five bites.  
She just wanted to go home now.  
  
Home was the South Seas apartment complex just across the street.   
Apparently a helicopter having crashed into the second floor back in 2013 had urged remodeling along with basic reconstruction, so 'Rosa' slipped some extra cash to the building manager for the newest single bedroom unit.  
Even if it was newer than the rest of the building, it wasn’t anything spectacular.  
A small, 800sqft unit just big enough for someone who lived alone.  
  
She kicked off her shoes when she stepped inside and left them on the vinyl floor mat so she wouldn't track water into the apartment.  
"Home sweet home," she murmured to the empty room, moving across the small living room and into the even smaller kitchen, where she put her leftover breakfast into the fridge for later.   
Shelves were looking pretty bare. She needed to buy groceries.  
Maybe she could get away with being lazy tonight and just order from a food delivery app. Who wanted to go grocery shopping in the rain anyway?  
She closed the refrigerator door and looked over the things posted up with magnets.   
A note she wrote herself for what day every month the bills would be auto-paid.   
Pictures she took of the beach, pamphlets for the cable car to go up Mount Chiliad, old pictures she'd printed off of Lita, Tracey and Lamar, the Vanilla Unicorn staff, Trevor, and Simon.  
 _Oh… Simon…_   
She hadn’t thought of him in a long few weeks.   
What she previously believed to be love now felt like the heavy burden of guilt. She knew he would want to see her if he knew she never left San Andreas. He said he wanted to at least write her, and she said she would try to set that up, but decided against it when she made the choice to stay in the state.   
She didn't want to see him anymore; and it was no one’s fault but her own. It would only get both of their hopes up. They couldn't work. She couldn't work as a partner for _anyone,_ as far as she was concerned.  
She took his picture off of the fridge door and looked closely at it, then glanced at the picture of Trevor for comparison.  
They looked so alike.  
But Simon wasn't Trevor. And if she were really being honest with herself, that had doomed any would-be relationship from the start.  
She simply didn’t want anyone else. Not yet, after almost three years after his death. Maybe because it was so sudden.  
"Sorry, Simon," she told the picture.  
He had likely moved on.  
It was time she did too.  
“... Time to move on,” she muttered, looking back to the rest of the pictures and picked them one-by-one from under their magnets. Stacked in her hand, taking one last look at each one until the fridge door was bare. Ready to rip the stack of pictures in half. Willing herself to do it. But she just couldn't make her body move. Holding the corners of the stack between her fingers, just one simple move away from severing the last thread that kept her attached to life as Tommie Vercetti…  
She became aware that she was holding her breath in anticipation.  
Then exhaled sharply in resignation, and shoved the pictures into a miscellaneous drawer at her back.  
The last thread was the hardest one to cut.  
Maybe one thread would be okay to keep.   
After all, keeping the pictures made her feel less lonely. 

**Author's Note:**

> No I will not stop writing AUs <3


End file.
